Blackthorn and Ash
by JJJJ12
Summary: He was rude, he was arrogant, and he was exactly the type of wizard she loathed. Rey wasn't sure why the American wizard had transferred to Hogwarts as a seventh year, but one thing was certain. She hated him just as much as she wanted him. Harry Potter/Wizarding World AU
1. The Welcome Feast

"_YOU'RE A COWARD!"_

_His voice was strained, his body tense. His training clothes were covered in a mixture of sweat and mud, the thick wool practically suffocating him despite the cool breeze of the Vermont evening. Sugar maple trees waved around them, their shaking branches shooting bits of sap into the evening air. _

_There was a whistling around the pair, offering Ben a momentary distraction. He wasn't sure if it was the movement of the trees or perhaps a roaming band of Doxy, the fairy-like creatures always nesting around his parent's home. It gave him a brief moment of clarity._

_It wasn't enough._

_The older man stood mere feet away from him, his wand drawn. His eyes were tired, and the way his blonde hair was pushed back, peppered with bits of grey, showed his true exhaustion._

"_Enough," his voice broke, his hand shaking, "Must you always test me, Ben? You're a child! Just a child!"_

_Ben charged forward, the wand between his fingertips shaking. The Blackthorn was smooth, and perhaps another taunt of his true character._

"_I am not a child," Ben hissed, the last word spat out with true venom, "And if you think I am so much like him, then treat me the same!"_

_The man merely shook his head, hesitantly dropping his arm and thus, his wand. "I have tried so hard with you," He whispered, his voice hushed, "And I am ever fearful that I have failed."_

"_JUST DO IT!" Ben practically sobbed, aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks, "FIGHT ME!"_

_He thought the man stepped forward, but it was truthfully hard to tell with the tears blinding his vision. "Ben—" the man whispered, the voice coming closer, "Please don't—"_

"_YOU'RE A COWARD!" Ben screamed, throwing a hex at the older man, "You claim to be the savior of the wizarding world, but you are NOTHING!"_

_His hex was deflected with little more than a flick of the other man's wand. "You are just a child, Ben!"_

_Ben sent another hex his way. "A child, am I?" He growled, sparks of red shooting from his wand, charging towards the other man, "Yet you accuse a child of the dark arts? Of being kissed by the darkness because of the wand that chose him? Because of the blood running through his veins?"_

"_Dammit, Ben!" He had finally succeeded in getting the older man to crack, "Why do you want to fight? Why do you want this?"_

_Despite his youth, his wand movements were elegant, skilled, even poised. But they were no match to the man across from him. Every red spark that flew from the Blackthorn was deflected into the damp grass of the Vermont landscape._

"_Because if I am so much like him," Ben spat out, continuing the fierce movements of his wand, "Then fight me like you fought him."_

_The fuse broke. _

_A streak of purple flew towards Ben, despite his wand at the ready, knocking him off his feet. His body felt like it was being torn apart—burning from the inside out. His shaking hand managed to catch the tail end of the spark, a dazzling gold that knocked the air out of him._

_He heard the man scream._

_But he couldn't focus. He couldn't evaluate the damage he had done—the agony he may have inflicted._

_Not with the excruciating pain running through every inch of his body. He couldn't see. He couldn't move. _

_He just felt pain._

"_Uncle," Ben cried out, before the world went black._

He woke up with a start, his heart hammering in his chest. He sat up in his bed, staring at the barren walls of the dingy inn he had been placed in. His only company, as with most of his life, was the sleek black cat curled into his side.

Ben was certain it was the only warmth given to him since he was perhaps two years young. He ran a careful hand through the black fur, concerned about waking Starkiller.

He was alone, in an unfamiliar country, his entire life having been ripped from his hands. Unsure of what to do, he allowed his eyes to roam to the cracked window of his room, his gaze catching the few stars in the London sky.

It was nothing compared to what he was used to. Not the dark skies of his childhood home in Vermont, enough stars in the sky that even the No-Maj rarely needed electricity. Not the twinkling stars that shined above Ilvermorny, a soothing presence when he forever felt alone.

Could he truly call either of those places home? No. But they were the closest to belonging he had.

Until they were taken away.

Nothing in Ben's life was permanent.

Except the solitude.

And the darkness.

-x-

Her smile could probably be described as smug.

To be truthful, Rey couldn't help it. Not when every last item she owned was tucked neatly into her second-hand trunk, purchased at age 11 by a Hogwarts grant provided to the school's most in need students. Her faithful grey cat, Dee, was tucked happily into her coat, seemingly relieved to be escaping too.

Getting permission to keep Dee was already hectic enough—Hogwarts had to forge letters about her cat being an emotional support animal or some bollocks like that. Then again, as the cat nuzzled into her cheek, she figured there was some truth to it.

Dee was the only family she had.

Rey was only two blocks away from the disgusting public housing facility that she had called home while in foster care for the past eleven years, her heavy trunk being dragged behind her. Unlike her fellow Hogwarts students, Rey had figured out how to transfigure her trunk to have wheels, effectively allowing the massive piece of luggage to work as a suitcase. It was helpful since she didn't have the money, nor the space, for a cart.

In fact, Rey had approximately 62 pounds to her name. She was lucky enough to earn the money by cat sitting for an elderly woman during her final summer in the muggle world. Hogwarts provided a grant that paid for all of her school goods—even enough, thankfully, for a broom—but there wasn't much left over.

Sure, Rose was always kind enough to offer to buy her a trolley treat or a cone from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, but Rey hated taking advantage of someone else's charity.

Then again, she wasn't entirely sure how 62 pounds would cover an entire school year of sweets and prank goods.

But it was her fault, really. Usually, during her summers in the muggle world, Rey would set up shop to make extra money. She'd fix bicycles, cat sit, walk dogs, clean windows—really anything. She didn't make a ton, but it always provided enough for her yearly indulgences in chocolate frogs and goods from Zonko's Joke Shop.

However, this summer, she was far too distracted by reading up on what life _afte_r Hogwarts would be—of the wizarding world she had only been a part of since the tender age of eleven. Her summer nights were spent reading anything she could get her hands on—her beloved copy _of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_, the childhood fairy tales found in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, and her most favorite, _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Reading, coupled with her almost constant letter writing to her dearest friends spread across the isles, meant minimal time to make any money.

Rey knew that after a quick trip to Gringotts for muggle money conversion, she'd have not even 13 galleons to her name for the entirety of her seventh year.

As she got to the tube station and checked the balance on her Oyster card, she groaned.

Make that 58 pounds.

She wanted to be annoyed—wanted to hate watching her precious money be spent on the smelly tube instead of on trolley treats and pranks galore—but she was too happy to care. This was the last time she'd have to ride the tube if she was lucky.

Because if Rey got her way, as soon as she disappeared within Platform 9 and ¾, she wouldn't be returning to the muggle world.

She was leaving that life behind.

It wasn't like there was anything left for her there, anyways.

-x-

"How are you?" There was a pause, as spoonfuls of porridge disappeared into the man's mouth, "Truthfully?"

Ben eyed the man across from him with mild disdain. Chewbacca, or Chewie as most friends called him, was a close family friend—one of the rare people Ben had grown to trust over the years. Despite the man's massive stature (and surely half-giant blood), he was kind and nurturing, always willing to offer an ear if someone needed advice.

Given the tension Ben shared with his father growing up, he typically confided in Chewie.

Until, of course, the man moved to be the Groundskeeper at Hogwarts after Ben's thirteenth birthday. He still saw him occasionally, usually during the summer, when Chewie would spend at least a month in their guest cottage in Vermont.

But truthfully, despite the appalling way Chewie ate, Ben was relieved to see his hairy face.

He expected that his Uncle would be sent for him.

No words could possibly describe his relief when Chewie entered the dingy inn, instead.

"How am I?" Ben repeated, glaring at the bowl of porridge in front of him, "You know they sent me on No-Maj transportation? I had to sit on an airplane! For 7 hours!" He shuttered, reliving the memory, "It was practically a fate worse than death."

Chewie snorted and grabbed a handful of bread. He ripped off a hearty piece and swallowed it whole, his eyes never leaving Ben.

"They're trying to protect you, kid." He explained gently, before stuffing another piece of bread into his mouth, "The last thing you need is _The Daily Prophet_ or _The New York Ghost_ catching wind of a trans-Atlantic portkey right as Hogwarts gets back in session."

Ben shifted uncomfortably, staring at his forgotten bowl. "They've lied, you know? They've told the public that I'm taking some sort of educational sabbatical. Finishing my studies independently and then traveling the world." He scoffed and pushed away the bowl, his face hot with anger, "Do they really think the press is that stupid? That they won't realize that the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo is now at Hogwarts?"

Chewie hummed, as if in agreement, before pulling Ben's abandoned bowl towards him. He ate a spoonful, his face thoughtful. "You need to give your parents some credit, kid. Your face hasn't been photographed since you were five years old. No one is going to know."

"Oh, really? I know even the British No-Maj lost their grand revolution years ago, but surely the wizards can't possibly be that stupid too?" Ben inquired smugly, looking around the inn in clear disdain, "I'm sure they'll recognize a last name like Solo."

The snort Chewie let out was almost as humorous as his eye roll. "Well, we've all discussed it and we agree. You'll go by a different name while at Hogwarts."

Ben tensed, his dark eyes narrowing. "Who is _'we'_?"

The pair stared at each other, the enchanted piano and the rambunctious guests of the inn not enough to distract them.

"You're 17, kid. Don't be such a handful."

Ben growled and threw up his hands. "No! I deserve to know who exactly is participating in these lengthy discussions about my life!"

Chewie groaned and scratched at his beard. "It was one conversation over Floo. Just your parents, myself, Headmaster Kenobi and…"

The name didn't need to be said. Ben crossed his arms and looked away. "I see. Anything else I should be aware of?"

The burly man grumbled. "They do gotta sort you, kid."

The news clearly took him by surprise. Ben sputtered, nearly knocking over his glass of pumpkin juice. "I have to be _sorted_? Are you crazy? I'm going in as a seventh year!"

Chewie shrugged and finished the last bit of bread. "Sorry, kid. That's the protocol. Everyone at Hogwarts needs to be in a house."

"But I have a house!" Ben exclaimed, his ears surely burning red, "I'm a Horned Serpent!"

"At Ilvermorny, sure. Hogwarts has its own houses, kid." Chewie finished his tea and hummed, a smile growing on his lips, "Your mom and uncle were both Gryffindors. Your grandmother was a Hufflepuff, I believe."

Ben's lips twisted in anger. He looked away, instead focusing on a pair of quarreling house elves. "Yes, well, I like my grandfather was a Horned Serpent. He should have fought harder for mother to go to Ilvermorny—maybe then she'd have better taste in food! At least dad had the better sense to keep me in America."

Chewie chuckled, watching Ben with amused eyes, "You'll have to cool the Anti-British thing, kid. That won't bode well with your new, very British professors and classmates."

With a huff, Ben glanced back at Chewie. "I'm not anti-British. I just happened to enjoy my life at home. At Ilvermorny."

"Did you?"

Ben glanced down at his hands, still scarred from his most recent accident, "I had no choice, did I?"

Chewie frowned. He nibbled on his lips, clearly struggling to say what he really wanted to say. But one look at the confused young boy—because he was still, just a boy—got him going.

"If you ever need anyone to talk to…"

He tried to hide his sneer, he truly did, but Ben couldn't help it. "I don't_ need_ to talk to anyone. Don't let mother brainwash you."

"She's been nothing but honest, kid. Talked about the potions. The accident. How you spent nearly a month at St. Jouge's."

Ben shook his head, his hands shaking. "Did she now? Well she deserves mother of the year now, doesn't she? And what's her solution to all of this?" He choked out, hating that he was near tears, "Taking me away from the only place I found solace and fucking sending me to this dump!"

His last exclamation drew some curious looks from the inn patrons, especially a pair of frazzled house elves. Ben muttered to himself before jumping to his feet.

"Shouldn't we be going?" He asked, his voice dark, "Isn't there some mythical train I need to catch?"

Chewie remained sitting, watching the boy with worried eyes. "We decided it would be best if you didn't arrive with the rest of the students."

Ben blinked, unbelieving of his words. "I see. So first I am forced to endure the Hogwarts experience, and then I don't even get to live it?"

"You'd get a lot of questions you won't want to answer on the train, kid. Best to let the first years get sorted, let all the students get their jitters out, and you'll come around on Wednesday."

His shoulders sunk in defeat. "I see. Will you stay with me until then?"

Chewie offered a soft smile and a nod. "Of course, kid. I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd be the first to," Ben whispered, practically to himself.

The server came around, a rather hideous looking wizard wearing tattered robes, and held out the bill. Used to providing for himself, Ben reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of Dragots, the silver coins glimmering on the dirty table.

With one look at the coins, Chewie laughed.

"You've got a lot to learn, kid. First, let's get you some galleons. Then, let's teach you about tea—it seems even with your mother's British education, she didn't prepare you."

Ben sighed and tucked the money back into his robes.

Even his money didn't belong here.

What else was new?

-x-

Rey rushed along the thin passageways of the Hogwarts Express, Dee in her arms. She was following the sounds of familiar laughs, of high-pitched squeals, of _home_.

In fact, when she forced the door of the compartment open, she nearly burst into tears.

It was a flurry of movement after that—kisses with Rose, an intense hug with Finn, even an awkwardly timed high five with Poe. By the time she dropped onto the plush seat, she was smiling so hard she thought her cheeks might explode.

Once she adjusted, Dee content in her lap, her gaze landed on Finn and Rose. The pair of them already clad in their Hufflepuff robes wasn't anything new. But the glimmering badges on their chests certainly were.

"OH MERLIN!" Rey squealed, her eyes shifting between the badges, "You lot are sneaky! How could you not write about this?" She leaned forward and swatted playfully at both of them, "My best friends as Head Boy and Girl? This is unreal!"

Finn blushed under her attention, offering a soft shrug. "We thought it would be fun surprising you."

Rose grinned and nodded excitedly, taking a moment to straighten out her badge. "Did you know that it's the first time in three hundred years that Hogwarts has had a Hufflepuff Head Girl_ and _Boy?"

From across them, Poe rolled his eyes. "You've only mentioned it about a dozen times, Rose."

The petite girl scoffed and eyed Poe with mild annoyance, clearly unimpressed by the way his uniform shirt hung loose from his trousers, "You're just bitter you weren't picked, Poe! You practically campaigned."

Rey pursed her lips and glanced at Poe, looking over his open Gryffindor robe. "Are you not a Prefect?" As she asked, she dug into her own pocket, retrieving her Prefect badge. It was her third year in the coveted role.

"Why does everyone keep asking—" As soon as his eyes met her badge, he scoffed. "Are you kidding me? How did you lot all get badges and I didn't?"

Finn couldn't help but snort. "Well, last year you did get caught snogging during your rounds."

Poe narrowed his eyes. "That was _once_."

"Twice, actually."

"Twice?"

"Once with Zorii and once with Tallie," Rose jumped in, filling in the gaps for Finn.

Poe rubbed at his eyes. "Right, right. Forgot about Tallie."

"You _forgot_ about her? Didn't you two like…date for two weeks?" Rey asked this time, glancing at her house mate with revulsion.

The Gryffindor groaned. "We did not _date_. We…you know."

The other three occupants of the train carriage shuttered, understanding his meaning. A brief period of silence filled the cabin, before the ever-talkative Rose began again, this time talking about the juicy Hogwarts gossip.

"I was able to confirm that Professor Skywalker _is_ returning to Hogwarts," She explained, looking between her friends with a grin, "This is the first time in fifty years that we've had the same Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for more than a year!"

Poe snorted and leaned back in his chair, unimpressed by the news. "Don't count your blessings yet. I won't celebrate his return until we're literally back in the classroom and he's teaching us a lesson. A lot can happen between now and the first school bell."

Rey sighed and glanced out the window. "Ever the optimist, Poe."

But she wouldn't let his snark get her down. The Scottish countryside was far too hypnotizing. The green beyond, the misty skies, the rolling hills…

It was what dreams were made of. Just sitting in that lumpy seat, Dee in her arms, with Poe, Rose, and Finn bickering about Quidditch around her was the most at home she had ever felt in her life.

Not to mention what her seventh year would bring her academically. She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do after school—being an Auror had always been her dream, and under Professor Skywalker's instruction last year, she felt even closer to it—but she still wasn't completely sure.

She was confident, however, that with her incredible Professors, making decisions about her future would be easy.

And with the friends beside her, she was adamant that most of all, she'd have _fun_.

-x-

"Where do you reckon Chewbacca is?" Poe whispered, leaning over to Rey about midway through the Sorting Hat ceremony. There were at least another thirty first years excitedly waiting to be sorted into a house of their own. While the ceremony used to bring Rey great joy—not to mention happy memories of her own sorting so many years ago—she was admittedly tired and ready to get out of the Great Hall.

Besides, she had eaten her fill. Four plates full, to be approximate. Enough to even make Poe gag.

After watching the Sorting Hat scream a proud "RAVENCLAW!" to the full room, Rey glanced over to the table of Professors. When she noticed the empty chair, where Chewbacca, their Groundskeeper usually sat, she registered Poe's comment.

"I dunno," She whispered in response, carefully taking note of the rest of the Professors, especially Skywalker's sour face, "Not sure. Why do you think Skywalker looks like he just smelled a Dungbomb?"

Poe snorted at her comment, earning a few nasty glares from a pair of over-achieving fourth years. He glanced back at Rey, thoroughly amused. "I dunno. But I'm sure you'll find out."

Rey raised an eyebrow and glanced at the boy beside her. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean you're a brown noser, Rey. Especially for Skywalker. Of course, you'll find out if he has a bloody ingrown toenail or ate a bad batch of stew."

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "I am not a brown noser! Believe me, I have no interest in knowing what's got Skywalker in such bad spirits."

Poe rolled his eyes and ate another forkful of potatoes. "Ahuh. If you say so, Niima."

-x-

As it turned out, Poe was right. Rey would be the one to find out. But she most certainly wasn't a brown noser! She just… cared about Professor Skywalker. She felt a kindred spirit with him. Sure, he wasn't a muggle-born orphan like she was, but the man was raised split between America and Britain. He understood her feelings of not quite belonging in either world.

She was concerned about him, and given the Defense Against the Dark Arts' curse, she couldn't help but want to make sure he was okay.

But, when she approached him as the Great Hall was emptying, the man assured her he was fine, his friendly blue eyes twinkling under the enchanted ceiling.

"I'm fine, Rey. Just a bit tired," He explained, looking put together in his royal blue robes, "You must know how exhausting it is listening to the Sorting Hat ramble on."

Rey giggled and nodded. She surely did. "Of course, sir. I just wanted to say hello then. Did you have a good summer?"

At her question, he appeared solemn, but offered her a curt nod. "I did, thank you. And did you?"

"As good as I can have back in the muggle world! I'm just thrilled to be back here."

Professor Skywalker smiled. "Good, I am glad to hear that. I truly hope you have a wonderful final year here, Rey."

"As do I! I just hope it's not too eventful—I'm sure studying for my N.E.W.T.S will be exhausting enough!"

At her comment, his lips curled. "Eventful? No, no, I surely hope not."

Rey hummed, thinking about what the rest of the year would bring. "It's been a rather relaxed time here, has it not? Minus the troll in the dungeon my third year. I sure hope it stays that way!"

Professor Skywalker looked mildly ill. "As do I, Rey. As do I."

"Anything I should keep my eyes open for?" She joked, an excited smile across her lips.

But before he could answer, Finn's boisterous voice was heard, yelling for prefects to begin taking their houses to their quarters. Rey smiled and offered Professor Skywalker a goodnight, before joining her other Gryffindor prefects.

In the midst of her departure, she could have sworn she heard her Professor mutter something about the "_Prodigal Son_" but wrangling a bunch of first years drew her attention elsewhere.

-x-

"Is it true what they say?" a nervous first year asked, glancing around the Gryffindor common room, "Is Professor Skywalker really Lord Vader's son? Did he really help defeat Emperor Palpatine?"

Rey froze, her hands still awkwardly waving to the bulletin board that students hung up club notices, artwork, and other random advertisements on. She was in the middle of giving her 'Welcome to Gryffindor' speech when the first year, who's name Rey had already forgotten, got a bit excited by the mention of their Head of House, Luke Skywalker.

She cleared her throat, considering her response. "Erm, yes. Well. But he doesn't like to speak about it, mind you, so don't go blabbering on during lessons, ok?"

The first years nodded eagerly, taking her words to heart. But, the first one to speak, the one that Rey now remembered was called George, wasn't deterred. "Why does he sound American if he went to Hogwarts? Doesn't he have a twin sister? Did she help defeat Palpatine too?"

With a sigh, she leaned against the tattered wallpaper of the common room, wondering why the hard questions always ended up at her feet. She wasn't sure if it was simply bad luck, or if the children just saw her speaking to Professor Skywalker after the Welcome Feast and decided that she was the best bet to get answers to their _many_ questions.

"Well, Professor Skywalker's father was American. He went to Hogwarts but spent his summers in America. So…accents are finnicky things, aren't they?"

One unnamed first year shot his hand up excitedly. "My mum's Irish but my dad's from Yorkshire! My nanny can never understand me!"

Rey couldn't help but giggle. "Er, yeah! Exactly. He may sound American, but don't you worry—he has a penchant for tea!" She cleared her throat and thought back to the other questions. "As for his sister, yes, I believe she works for MACUSA in America. But I dunno exactly. But you're right—she helped lead an army that fought against Emperor Palpatine."

George pursed his lips. "And Lord Vader. It's mad that he defeated his own father!"

"Well, aren't you just a little expert on the war?" Rey couldn't help her snark—it was late, she was tired, and these kids were too inquisitive for their own good. "Tell you what, if you have questions in the morning, why don't you ask Poe Dameron, ok? He loves chatting about Professor Skywalker."

The children let out hums of understanding before disappearing into their bedrooms. Finally by herself, she too slunk into her bedroom of six years, eying her roommates—Jannah, Jessika, and Kaydel—with mild curiosity.

Instead of unpacking, or already fast asleep, the girls were gathered on Jannah's bed, whispering furiously while nibbling on sweets and playing with each other's hair. Rey eyed them again before digging into her trunk, looking for her pajamas.

"Why are you lot still up?" She asked curiously, noticing their red cheeks, "Did one of you sneak fire whiskey in again?"

Kaydel snorted and laid back, humming excitedly. "Nope! But guess what I did?"

"More like who!" Jessika let out with a laugh, earning a shove from Kaydel.

Rey glanced over, now extremely curious. "Well?"

"Beau and I snuck into a broom closet after the Welcome Back Feast and well…" She sighed dramatically, her cheeks matching the red of her nightgown, "Let's just say I used my witch charms on him."

"She gave him a blowjob." Jannah supplied, with a little less finesse, "In case you were wondering."

Rey blinked, carefully buttoning up her pajamas. "Oh," She managed, for some reason finding herself blushing, "And how was…that?"

"Bloody amazing!" Kaydel shrieked, before popping a few sherbet lemons into her mouth, "He also used his fingers on me."

Jessika hummed from beside the blonde, nodding along. "I remember my first fingering in the broom closet. Right after my Potions O.W.L! Poe may be an arse, but he knows what he's doing!"

From beside the other two, Jannah flipped on her stomach and grabbed a handful of the hard candy. "Never in a broom closet, but with my muggle neighbor this summer. He was bloody fit," She hummed and laughed, "We got a bit carried away if I'm being honest."

As Rey buckled up her trunk, it took her a few moments to register the silence, as well as the looks of her three roommates. Once she had the massive case on the ground, she sat on the edge of her bed and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" She asked, welcoming Dee into her lap, "Why are you lot looking at me like that?"

Kaydel began to braid her blonde locks. "It's your turn to share."

Rey blinked, unsure what her friend meant. "Share what?"

"Your first time messing around," Jessika explained, glancing at her other roommates, "Like we just did."

With a gulp, Rey realized that was what her roommates _had_ been doing while she unpacked. Kaydel and Beau, Jess and Poe, and Jannah and some unnamed muggle boy. All of them had messed around—they knew what it felt like to be kissed, to be touched, to fall apart under someone else's watchful touch and gaze.

Rey didn't.

"I haven't," She finally explained, before climbing into her bed. She had considered lying, but realized that as a Gryffindor, she couldn't be scared about being herself. Instead, she simply told it like it was. "Messed around, that is."

The girls nodded carefully, albeit clearly surprised. "Really?" Kaydel asked, staring at Rey, "How?"

"What do you mean _how_?" Rey laughed, pulling the blankets over her, "I just haven't."

"Not with Finn?" Jess asked, chewing on the hard candies, "I thought he fancied you!"

Rey sighed and rubbed at her eyes. "Until fifth year."

"Right. Not Poe?" Jess followed up with, uncaring about her previous relationship with the guy.

To be polite, Rey held her gag in. "No."

"Well, tell us about your first snog at least!" Jannah pushed, leading the other girls to nod excitedly.

As Rey took in their excited, curious faces, she wondered just how…far behind she was. Truthfully, despite six years at Hogwarts, she hadn't really fancied anyone. During her second year, she had a minor crush on a seventh year, but even now, she knew her infatuation was more about his wand abilities than him as a person.

Aside from that, she had zero experience with romance. Finn had fancied her. Rose had fancied Finn. Poe had fancied, well, everyone.

But Rey?

She felt left behind. Especially as she stared at her three roommates. All three of them had at least been touched by a boy, and the closest thing Rey had to a kiss was when Dee licked her face at night.

"I haven't," Rey practically whispered, her answer not nearly as brave as her previous one.

The girls glanced at each other, before carefully beginning to clean up their makeshift get together. "Oh," Jannah began, helping Jess to collect the loose hard candies, "Well, that's alright! We'll help change that this year!"

Rey offered Jannah a quiet thanks before muttering a silencing charm on her bed. As soon as she pulled the curtains shut and held Dee to her chest, she began to cry.

She wasn't quite sure why.

-x-

"_You are a disappointment."_

_The voice was cruel, yet soft. Familiar, yet foreign._

"_Yet you are my only option."_

_A flutter of black robes ruffled through the air._

_Then, agony._

Rey bolted up in her bed, gasping for air. Dee shifted beside her, stretching her silver paws, eying Rey with concern. Sometimes, no matter how stupid it sounded, Rey thought Dee understood her on a deeper level than any old house cat. She liked to think that maybe Dee was a half-kneazle, or just particularly smart, but deep down, she knew the real answer.

She was lonely.

This cat was her companion.

With a sniffle, she hugged the fur beast to her chest, trying to shake away the voices of her dreams. "They're back," She whispered, ignoring the way her heart hammered in her chest, "The dreams."

Dee purred and nuzzled into Rey, the noise providing an odd comfort.

As if telling her to go back to sleep and forget all about the words whispered to her in the dark of the night.

So, she did.

She had seven N.E.W.T. level classes in the morning she had to be up and ready for.

-x-

By the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around, Rey was happily settled into her seventh-year schedule. Identical to her sixth-year classes, she was enrolled in N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Study of Ancient Ruins, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures.

Part of her did miss taking Herbology, but as a child of the city, she wasn't attuned to caring for plants.

Especially those of the magical variety.

At any rate, her first two and half days of classes had gone swimmingly. Professor Skywalker, despite still being in a sour mood, breezed through a review lesson of the final unit of their sixth year, graciously answering questions from students who lost a bit of their learnings over the summer. Professor Yoda, despite his tendency to talk in riddles, gave a fascinating lecture on the rune for the number seven, the only unidentifiable magical creature within the number runes. Professor Holdo had already assigned a blank star chart for her astronomy homework.

She couldn't begin to describe how excited she was.

Even for homework.

But, while things had gone smoothly to that point, she could tell something was out of the ordinary the moment she skipped into the Great Hall, her schoolbag dancing on her shoulder. For one, the massive room was normally bustling with noise, students screaming and laughing over plates of lunch, catching up with friends before running off to their next class.

Today, however, it was practically silent, sans the sounds of forks and knives scrapping against plates.

And the whispering.

_So_ much whispering.

Rey hurried over to the same table she had eaten lunch at for all six years at Hogwarts and slid along the bench until she sat beside Finn. He was huddled with Rose and Poe. Jannah joined with fellow Gryffindor Snap Wexley, but they seemed more focused on the homework they were frantically finishing than whatever juicy gossip everyone was surely talking about.

"—I'm just telling you what Jessika told me! She heard from a third-year who heard from a fifth-year, who heard from _Professor_ _Ackbar_!" Rose exclaimed, before taking a moment to eat a spoonful of beef casserole, "So don't get an attitude with me Poe Dameron!"

Rey couldn't help but snort as she began to fill her own plate, making sure to take an extra helping roast potatoes to accompany her own serving of beef casserole. She was practically salivating, especially when her eyes landed on the dessert selection of jam doughnuts and chocolate eclairs.

She'd definitely have one of each.

Through a forkful of potatoes, she finally tuned back into the conversation around her.

"—could mean anything!" Poe shot back before sipping his pumpkin juice, all while holding up a finger to indicate he wasn't done speaking, "It could just be Chewbacca coming back for all we know!"

Rose shook her head aggressively. "No! I told you. It wasn't just the boats!"

Once Rey had finished at least half her plate, she was willing to get involved. "What's this about the boats?" She inquired, following her words with a mouthful of bread roll, "Someone saw them out?"

The boats were a Hogwarts tradition—it was how first year students were taken to and from Hogwarts. The rest of the students traveled by carriage, until their final ride away from Hogwarts as a graduating seventh year, when they'd once again travel by water.

Rey was looking forward to riding the boats again when she finished at Hogwarts. But that experience meant school being done and she wasn't ready for that yet. Not really.

At any rate, it was bizarre if the boats were seen, especially since the first years were already at Hogwarts, settled _and _sorted.

Rose took in a massive gulp of air, before beginning her barrage of gossip.

"SO!" She practically gasped out, "All anyone can talk about is that one of the boats was spotted crossing the Black Lake at dawn. Which is, weird, right? Well, it gets _weirder_," Rose paused for dramatic effect, filling the gap with a fluff of her hair, "Kaydel had to deliver a package to Headmaster Kenobi during Herbology and she said the Sorting Hat wasn't sitting on its shelf in his office!"

She paused again, taking a moment to swallow a mouthful of tea, before continuing. "And didn't you notice Professor Yoda pull out _fourteen_ guides for our in-class project tomorrow? We only have _thirteen_ N.E.W.T. level students!"

Rose seemed to be finish with her gossip, waiting patiently for Rey to respond. While Rey had been listening, truthfully, her attention was currently on whether to start with the jelly doughnut or the chocolate éclair.

"Rey!" Rose shrieked, waving her arms, "Well?"

Knowing she'd eat both anyways, Rey grabbed a doughnut and looked at Rose. "What?"

"Don't you have anything to say? The gossip is all so juicy!"

Rey took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't get the big deal. Why does any of this matter?"

Poe sighed and crossed his arms. "Rose here, like half the student body, seems to think we have a new student."

"I don't think, Poe, _I know_! Come on! The evidence is right in front of you!" Rose exclaimed, looking to Rey for backup, "Don't you agree, Rey?"

With another bite of doughnut, Rey shrugged. "I dunno, Rose. It all seems kind of circumstantial at best. If it was at dawn, and therefore dark, whoever thought they saw the boats could have seen the giant squid. Or Poe is right and it was Chewbacca returning to school." She took another bite and hummed, "Now that I think about it, I swear I saw smoke coming from the chimney of his hut today!"

Rose grumbled and crossed her arms, clearly not liking her version of events being called into questions. "Fine. What about the sorting hat? The extra Ancient Runes guide?"

Rey shrugged. "Maybe the sorting hat was being cleaned or something. And Professor Yoda is like 900 years old. He probably just grabbed an extra one by accident."

"Wow! Niima and I agree for once!" Poe exclaimed, a cocky grin growing across his face, "This is one for the record books."

Thankfully, with a chocolate éclair in her hands, Rey had already tuned out Poe's babbling. She took a bite of the doughy, chocolatey dessert, humming happily. "I mean, I guess we'll see. But when's the last time Hogwarts has had a student start outside of the first day of term?"

This time, Finn piped in. "Maybe never."

Rey shrugged and licked the last bits of chocolate off her fingers. "Well, there you go! A new student? That would be mad. There's no way."

But Rose hummed, undeterred. "We'll see."

Poe snorted. "Yeah, I guess we will."


	2. The New Student

Despite his concerns about his relocation, Ben had to admit that the scenery was hypnotizing. The rolling hills of green was unlike anything he had ever seen back home, between Vermont or Ilvermorny. The school he attended for six years was nestled within Mount Greylock in Massachusetts, but that environment was…

Well, it was _nothing_ in comparison to what he had seen of Hogwarts in just mere hours.

He stared out the window of Chewie's hut, watching as a pair of what he assumed were second- or third-year students messed around at the edge of the castle. The edges of their robes dragged across the muddy ground, the brown a stark contrast from the yellow ties around their necks.

He didn't know their names, or their ages, or anything about them. But he could tell they were happy. He could tell that even in the middle of the school day, they were pleased to just be alive, hanging in each other's presence.

It made his chest burn.

Ben turned away from the window and watched as Chewie hunched over his fireplace, preparing what appeared to be a kettle of tea.

"The yellow…" Ben cleared his throat and adjusted in the ginormous chair he sat in—big for even his above-average height of 6 foot 3, "Which house is that?"

Chewie smiled and joined Ben, sitting in an identically ginormous chair. He set two mugs down and hummed. "Well, yellow is Hufflepuff. All students sport their house colors—yellow for Hufflepuff, green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, and blue for Ravenclaw."

Ben glanced back out the window, both relieved and disappointed to see the students had disappeared. "Slytherin. That's the house Lord Palpatine was in."

"It was," Chewie provided, sipping his tea, "but every house has produced good and bad wizards."

Taking another few moments to look around Chewie's hut, Ben hardly understood how the man had lived there for going on five years. It was small, especially for a man of his stature, and reeked of rainwater and the outdoors.

"Why do I just have to sit here?" Ben grumbled, before begrudgingly grabbing the mug, "Why can't I explore the school? You practically snuck me through the front door like some sort of illegal pet this morning!"

Chewie sighed and set his mug down, clearly frustrated. "Look, kid, we thought this was the best way to do it. You'll go through the sorting ceremony during dinner tonight. I wanted to bring you here during the day so you could see what the school looked like before what will likely be every student hounding you!"

Ben pursed his lips, displeased with the answer. "You think the students will be interested in me?"

A bewildered expression painted across Chewie's face. "Come on, kid! Of course, they will! You're Hogwarts' first transfer student in four-hundred years. You're American. Not to mention, even though you got some big ears, you've got your parents good looks."

At the compliment, Ben's cheeks flushed pink. "My—my parents' _what_?"

Chewie grumbled something about teenagers under his breath. "Kid, your dad was a heartbreaker. Your mom is stunningly beautiful. You're a handsome kid."

Ben swallowed. "Funny. No girls ever seemed to think so at Ilvermorny."

And they hadn't, not really. He knew girls seemed to be attracted to him, perhaps physically, but his stiff personality and emotional baggage always proved to be too much.

"Well, you'll have an accent going for you here," Chewie remarked thoughtfully, before jumping to his feet, "Just try to make friends, okay? That's what worried your mother the most."

Ben looked away, closing his eyes in the process. His mother loved to remind him of his solitude. She seemed to think she was pointing out something he didn't already know.

He was well aware.

But there was only so much Ben could do. He wasn't a talkative person, nor what one would call a 'people person'. His quiet personality coupled with his family's notoriety was a recipe for disaster.

People used him.

He was like an animal on display.

What would the Skywalker-Organa-Solo child do next? Would he be a war hero turned Auror like Luke? Would he join the ranks of MACUSA like Leia? Would he become a world-renowned Quidditch player like Han?

Would he become a dark wizard, hungry for power and blood like Anakin?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He wouldn't be like Anakin.

He couldn't be.

-x-

When dinner rolled around, Rey's relatively good mood from earlier in the day had vanished. Potions class left her smelling like rotted seaweed and with enough homework to keep her up well beyond her usual bedtime. That same foul mood followed her into the Great Hall, especially when she noticed the four massive tables divided by house.

Besides during feasts and other special events, students sat interspersed during meals, not forced to be sectioned by house. Yet that evening, all she saw were seas of green, red, blue, and yellow. It was especially frustrating since Rey desperately needed to speak to Rose about a particularly tricky rune she had noticed in their homework.

With a grumble, she slid beside Kaydel, her eyes locked on the spread of food in front of her. As she scooped a large clump of mash, she glanced at Poe, who sat across from her, digging into a rather juicy looking banger. Each bite he took sprayed juice across his chin, earning a giggle from Jessika, who watched him from beside Kaydel.

Apparently, despite whatever bad blood they held after their past hookup, Jessika was very much still interested in Poe.

Even if he looked like a slob while he ate.

"Why are we sorted by house?" Rey finally asked, before forking a piece of roast turkey onto her plate, "I needed to talk to Rose. Just my luck."

Poe rolled his eyes and finally took to wiping his chin. "I dunno. Nobody said. All I know is the first batch of students were ushered to the house tables. The rest of us followed."

"Do you think—"

The words died in Rey's throat as the once bustling room, previously filled with chatty students, cutlery against dishes, and cackling ghosts, came to a deafening silence. Students from every house watched, mouths agape, as the Sorting Hat was carried into the Great Hall in the hands of the ever-poised Headmaster Kenobi.

Not a sound was made during his journey to the front of the room, except the clinking of his boots against the stone floor. When he reached the staff table, he set the Sorting Hat down, before slowly walking towards his podium.

The students could do nothing but watch with fascination as Headmaster Kenobi made a scene of pouring himself a glass of water, and then proceeding to drink it.

"Ever the dramatic one," Poe muttered, "He brings in _that _and can't even bloody talk?"

Every Gryffindor immediately shushed him, clearly content to sit in silence and watch Headmaster Kenobi's stalling.

Finally, just when Rey thought she'd flip the bloody table over, the Headmaster stood against his podium, taking one hand to scratch at his greying beard. He smiled at his students, clearly able to read both their confusion and excitement.

"Good evening, students," He began, taking a moment to acknowledge every house, "I'm sure you all have mainly questions. The most pressing one surely being about the lack of treacle tart at dinner!"

His light-hearted humor did not impress a single student. They all stared, still in absolute silence, practically hypnotized by the presence of the Sorting Hat.

Knowing any of his words would quickly be forgotten, Headmaster Kenobi slowly nodded and gently stroked the brim of the hat. He glanced at his students, his face turning serious.

"As I'm sure you all are aware, this evening is not a usual Hogwarts supper. You have been asked to sit with your houses for a reason. Our beloved friend the Sorting Hat's presence is with purpose," He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before adding, "Your gossip is right. Tonight, Hogwarts will welcome its first transfer student in four-hundred years."

Headmaster Kenobi made the smart choice to stop his speech, as the hall practically erupted in gasps and screams of excitement. Murmuring filled every inch of the great hall, everyone from the first years to the professors excitedly gossiping about the bit of news. Perhaps he was being kind, or maybe he just enjoyed the excitement, but Headmaster Kenobi indulged his audience for a few moments, letting the conversation continue.

Rey didn't understand the big deal. She had two thoughts, really. The first was that she owed Rose an apology—the girl was right and had the true inside scoop before most of the school. The second, and most important, was that the Gryffindor Quidditch team needed a new Beater. With any luck, this new student could fill that spot.

"Merlin, I sure hope it's a bloke," Kaydel whispered beside her, "We've just about exhausted the selection here, haven't we?"

Poe wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm always here, Kay."

The blonde gagged. "In your bloody dreams, Dameron. If you want a shag, I reckon you better start kissing Jessika's arse, not cracking on with me."

Before Poe could get another word out, Professor Kenobi seemingly reached the end of his kindness. He held out his hands, an effective silencing tool for his hundreds of whispering students. They all immediately redirected their attention to the man, desperate to hear more of his news.

"Our transfer student hails from across the pond. He will enter as a seventh year. I encourage you all to welcome him with open arms, no matter what house he is sorted into." He took a moment, appearing to glance at Professor Skywalker.

The average student may not have identified Professor Skywalker's foul mood, but Rey could. What had her favorite Professor in such a terrible mood since the students returned to school? She noticed Professor Skywalker's nearly imperceptible nod at the same time Headmaster Kenobi did.

With that acknowledgment, he continued. "His name is Kylo Ren."

The moment the name left his lips, the doors to the Great Hall shot open. Chewbacca strolled in with determined steps, his massive shoulders held high. His easily identifiable fur coat appeared to be damp, leading Rey to believe it was raining outside.

But it didn't matter. She didn't care.

She was too busy watching the figure that followed the Hogwarts groundskeeper.

He was tall, perhaps taller than any of the current students at Hogwarts. His dark hair, nearly black, was longer than most, elegantly hanging just past his ears. It looked impossibly soft, even at her distance.

The student, called Kylo Ren, had alabaster skin, nearly glowing in the dimmed lights of the Great Hall. Notably, unlike the rest of the students who wore their robes, he was dressed in all black—a pair of fitted trousers and a black waistcoat over a slightly lighter shirt, the crisp fabric perhaps a glittering silver.

Rey wondered if that was the style in America—sure, wizards wore such clothes in England, but wizarding robes were always the attire of choice, especially for an important event such as arriving at his new school.

Like Chewbacca, the new student followed with determined footsteps, looking confident despite the devoted attention he received from every single student in the Great Hall. In fact, he only appeared to lose his confidence when he approached the Headmaster.

They stared at one another for a few moments, before Headmaster Kenobi squeezed the boy's shoulder. The interaction was intimate enough to make Rey wonder if the pair had met before. And perhaps they had—it certainly wasn't everyday a new student transferred to Hogwarts.

Kylo Ren was ushered to where the Sorting Hat sat and slowly lowered himself to the neighboring seat. He gazed at his devoted audience, showing no signs of embarrassment or nerves. He simply looked...indifferent.

As if being sorted as a seventeen-year-old was completely normal.

"Well then, let's get Mr. Ren sorted, shall we?" Headmaster Kenobi hummed, before picking up the hat. He offered the new student a soft smile before gently placing the hat on his head.

Kylo Ren sat stock-still, shutting his eyes the moment the hat touched his head.

-x-

Hogwarts' ridiculous sorting tradition made Ben nauseous. It was nothing like at Ilvermorny. During his first year, his sorting consisted of the four wooden mascots of each Ilvermorny house picking which students they wanted. While the upper classmen watched from their seats on a floor above, the separation made the sorting seem intimate.

Private.

But this?

It was terrible. Every student, from the wide-eyed curious first years up until the sleep-deprived seventh years watched with morbid fascination as the hat sat upon his head, muttering words as he evaluated Ben's future.

"Hmmm," the voice of the hat hummed, nearly causing Ben to jump out of his seat, "What a fascinating one you are. Intuitive. Knowledge-hungry. I dare say you'd be a fine Ravenclaw," it said, the voice capturing the attention of the entire room, "But I see resilience. Courage. Perhaps, a spot in Gryffindor?"

He clenched his fists. Gryffindor? Did he truly have the same spirit as his mother? His uncle?

"There is a hunger inside you. An ambition not many hold. The sign of a true Slytherin."

Ben still knew little about these houses, but he did recall the mention of Slytherin.

The Hogwarts house that welcomed Lord Palpatine with open arms.

The man that controlled his grandfather. The man that killed him.

The hat seemed to sense his hesitation.

"I feel you fighting your destiny. You know it in your heart. You know what your legacy will be."

Ben swallowed, unwilling to open his eyes. "No," was all he managed to whisper.

The hat laughed. "Yes… Yes… YES! IT'LL BE SLYTHERIN!"

From a corner of the room, Ben registered the sounds of cheers and clapping. He felt the hat being removed from his head. But he refused to open his eyes. He wasn't ready to accept the hat's decision.

His stomach felt heavy.

_You're too much like him. Like Vader. _

His uncle's words felt like poison. He carefully opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, looking towards the teaching staff. His eyes immediately locked with the cold blue of the man that had created so much chaos in his childhood. The pursed lips and disappointed gaze of his uncle was not a reaction he was unfamiliar with.

Ben swallowed and turned back around, glancing over the four long tables of students. Some stared, some celebrated, but most whispered amongst themselves.

He was mildly aware of Kenobi speaking to the students. But Ben simply rose to his feet and stumbled away from the platform. Chewie approached him, looking concerned.

"You okay, kid?" He asked, standing by the head of what appeared to be the Gryffindor table, "I know this can be a lot."

"I'm fine," which wasn't true, not at all, "I just think I need to step outside." He swallowed and shoved up his sleeves, suddenly hot, "Maybe put my robes on."

Chewie just nodded, not willing to argue as Ben nearly tore out of the Great Hell. He wasn't sure if people were watching him. He didn't really care.

He just needed out and he needed out _now_.

Once out of the hall and around a corner, he pressed himself against the stone wall, taking desperate breaths. His throat felt tight; his skin hot. There was a thrumming in his bones, a sensation he had never quite felt before.

He felt nauseous, yet alive.

His heart felt like hammering out of his chest. He closed his eyes, desperate for some sort of relief.

"Word of advice," a sweet feminine voice began, the English accent dancing across his ears, "Avoid the spotted dick. The house elves use far too many currants."

Ben slowly opened his eyes, his gaze landing on a fellow student. Based on her red tie, she appeared to be in Gryffindor. He hardly cared. He was too taken by her beauty—golden skin, freckled cheeks, hazel eyes, and pink lips overtook his senses.

She smelled of vanilla.

His nerves sung.

"Spotted dick?" He managed to choke out, staring at the peculiar girl, noting her interesting hairstyle of three buns. He wondered if that was a common updo in England. He certainly had never seen anything like it on the girls at Ilvermorny.

His heart nearly burst out of his chest as the girl laughed, her face transforming into a beautiful smile. "Oh, Merlin! I'm so happy I got to say it to you first!" She giggled and shifted on her feet, watching him carefully, "As soon as I heard you were from America, I had to be the one to say it!"

Ben swallowed and nodded, albeit still very much confused. "What exactly…is that?"

The girl grinned. "I dunno how to describe it, really. It's a type of pudding. Got loads of dried fruits in it."

"A pudding called...spotted dick?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Might just be our legendary British humor."

Ben just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. "Right. I'll...avoid the spotted dick, then."

"Good. Welcome to Hogwarts, Kylo."

Before he managed anything else, the girl disappeared back into the Great Hall, not even offering him a name. He simply stared at the spot she had abandoned, still transfixed on the delicious scent of vanilla.

It was unlike anything he had ever smelled.

She was unlike anyone he had ever met.

Briefly, he wondered if Chewie was right. Maybe his time at Hogwarts would be an opportunity for a fresh start. A chance to make friends. A possibility for romance.

But those thoughts vanished as another figure joined him in the once abandoned corridor. He tensed, unwilling to move away from the stone wall.

"Chewie said you were changing into your robes. Yet here you are, just hanging about." His Uncle stepped forward, frustration written across his features, "Perhaps you could try a little bit, Ben. Give this an honest go."

Ben scoffed. "I believe the name is _Kylo_," He explained, before adding a rather snarky, "_Professor._"

"Watch yourself," His Uncle murmured darkly, "I am your Professor. You will treat me with respect."

Not willing to be in the presence of his Uncle any longer, Ben stepped away from the stone wall. "Have you ever treated me with respect?"

His Uncle cursed and pinched his nose. "We're not doing this right now. Go put on your robes and get back in the Great Hall. You have some anxious peers who would like to meet you."

Ben wanted to argue. He desperately wanted to turn on his heels and escape, hide somewhere where nobody would find him, especially not his uncle. But he knew he couldn't. It would only be a detriment to him anyways—he'd be living with these people.

He might as well get to know them.

-x-

"What was he like?" Jessika practically squealed, staring at Rey with a mixture of jealousy and anticipation, "Was he as tall as he looked? Did he smell good? Was he fit?"

Rey snorted at Jessika's line of questioning, thinking over her meeting with the boy as she shoveled some of the now room-temperature mash into her mouth. His introduction had been a bit of a blur, truthfully. Poe had made the joke about spotted dick and Rey just…

Well, it was an excuse to approach the new student.

_Kylo Ren_.

Something about him just...pulled her in. She couldn't explain it.

It was how she ended up sneaking out of the Great Hall, practically following him into the corridor. With another spoonful, she considered Jessika's questions.

He certainly was handsome. Up close, Rey immediately noticed the constellation of beauty spots that painted across his alabaster skin, as well as his chocolate brown eyes, splattered with flecks of gold. He was massively tall, and embarrassingly, smelled like pure man.

Or at least what she imagined real men smelled like.

Because she spent most of her time around teenage boys or her professors.

Neither of those were good indicators of what men smelled like.

Truthfully, she was a bit flustered and well, she had never been flustered before. It scared her. It was precisely why she decided to play it cool around Jessika.

Besides, a man like him would certainly go after beauties like Jessika, or Kaydel, or Jannah. Her roommates made her look like a child.

A scrawny, freckled, child.

"Erm, yes, he's tall, most definitely," Rey began, sipping her pumpkin juice, "He was...fit, I'd say."

Kaydel squealed and clapped excitedly. "This is _exactly_ what we needed. A fit bloke with a sexy accent? Merlin, strike me down!"

However, unlike the girls, Poe seemed hardly impressed. "Oh, don't ruin your knickers, Kay. He's a bloody Slytherin. That should flash some warning signs."

"Please!" She snorted, unperturbed by Poe's warning, "DJ was a Slytherin too and I still shagged him sideways." She hummed and pushed away her plate, "Shame he graduated."

Rey barely listened as the rest of the table continued to discuss the mysterious new transfer student. But, for once, it wasn't the spread of food that caught her attention.

It was the sight of Kylo Ren, dressed in his Hogwarts robe, joining the Slytherin table.

-x-

Ben wasn't hungry—the thought of food nearly made him retch—but he couldn't help but eye the spread in front of him. It certainly wasn't the classic foods he grew up eating at Ilvermorny—Wednesdays were usually devoted to comfort foods, like meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, and chicken noodle soup.

He saw turkey and mashed potatoes, but also some sort of pie with brown mush in the middle. Not to mention, massive sausage links. In fact, the students around him seemed to be eating their sausage with mashed potatoes. It was a bizarre combination.

Ben had a feeling he'd struggle with the food.

But not nearly as much as he'd struggle with socializing.

"So, Kyle, was it?" a red-headed boy asked, watching Ben with careful eyes.

"Kylo," Ben quickly corrected, the name sounding foreign on his tongue, "And you are?"

The boy grinned. "Armitage Hux. Everyone just calls me Hux."

Ben nodded, noticing the slight differences in his accent compared to the other students he overheard. "Are you...from England?"

Hux snorted and shook his head, pausing to eat a forkful of an unidentified meat, "No, no, I'm from Ireland. Grew up in County Meath."

"And are you a seventh year?" Ben asked, staring at a carafe of what he thought was pumpkin juice. After careful consideration, he poured himself a glass, knowing with his nerves, hydration would be smart.

"Yes! A prefect too," Hux hummed, before tearing into a bread roll, "Still a bit ticked about not being named Head Boy, if I'm honest." He sulked for a moment, seemingly glancing at the table beside them of yellow ties—Hufflepuff, if Ben remembered—before looking back at Ben. "It is what it is, I reckon."

At the rate Ben was going, he'd have to start writing down all this new vocabulary. What in Merlin's name was a prefect?

Apparently, he voiced that question aloud, since Hux just laughed.

"Well, it's…" He paused, clearly thinking of how to explain the role, "It's like an ambassador for the students. Each house has six—a boy and girl from fifth year and on. We help wrangle students, go on rounds in the corridors, stuff like that."

Ben nodded. "Noted. Is there…anything I should know? About Hogwarts, I mean?"

Hux considered his question. "Well, the house rivalry is the biggest thing I reckon. Most of us crack on, but the biggest tension is between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

Chewie had mentioned a similar sentiment earlier in the day, but before Ben was sorted, he barely paid attention. Now, he couldn't help but glance at the Gryffindor table, his eyes immediately landing on the mysterious girl he had met only moments prior.

Following his gaze, Hux snorted. "Loud, aren't they? That lot is most of the Gryffindor seventh years. Ten of them in total. Our year had a high number of Ravenclaws," he explained, watching as the Gryffindors chatted and laughed, "The tan bloke is Poe Dameron. Gryffindor's keeper."

Ben just nodded. He glanced at the boy mentioned—Poe—but immediately looked back to the girl from before. At least Quidditch was something Ben knew.

Despite his many differences with his father, the two got along when it came to sports. In fact, it was the only thing they ever discussed.

Since his dad was a World Cup champion and all.

"Say, you play Quidditch?" Hux asked, curious, "Our seeker, DJ, just graduated. Probably have a Chaser position open too."

For the second time that evening, his heart skipped. With all the changes in his life, joining a Quidditch team at Hogwarts hadn't occurred to Ben. But now, for once, it seemed Lady Luck may be on his side.

"I do. I'm a seeker, actually."

Hux slammed his fists on the table, glee written across his face. "GWEN!" He screeched, catching the attention of a tall blonde girl a couple of students over, "The American bloke is a seeker!"

The girl immediately jumped to her feet and ran to their end of the table. She slid in besides Hux, eying Ben with glee.

"Gwen Phasma." She said, holding out her hand, "Slytherin's Captain. I play keeper."

Ben cautiously shook her hand, a bit put off by the attention he was receiving from his two housemates. "Uh, hi. I uh…I hadn't exactly decided if I was going to play Quidditch or not."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Have you played organizational Quidditch before?"

"Yes." And he had—he played seeker for Horned Serpent for a record _six years_ at Ilvermorny.

"At Ilvermorny?" She pushed, watching him curiously, "Is that where you went?"

Ben paused, unsure what to say. He had been instructed by Chewie not to mention his previous school—as it was, the wizarding world was small. If he volunteered that he transferred from Ilvermorny, surely a Hogwarts student with an American cousin would put two and two together.

Since his mother had lied about his educational sabbatical as Ben Solo, then he could lie about his past as Kylo Ren.

"Uh, no," He began slowly, watching her face morph in confusion, "I was, uh, home-schooled. And in America, we have home-school leagues for Quidditch."

Gwen nodded slowly. "Right. We have our first practice on Saturday. Be there."

He nodded dumbly, too surprised by the girl's confidence to say otherwise. Gwen hummed in delight and nudged Hux, a grin growing across her lips.

"Say, if he's any good, we might be able to beat Gryffindor this year!" She practically squealed, glancing over at the aforementioned house's table with disdain, "We have to shut Niima down."

Hux nodded. "Gwen's right—I sure hope you're good, Kylo. You see the girl sitting next to Poe Dameron?"

Ben turned, glancing at the Gryffindor table. His eyes landed on the previously mentioned tan student, and then the girl next to him.

Three buns shook in laughter.

Ben swallowed. "Yes, I see her."

"That's Rey Niima," Hux explained, his tone a bit harsh, "She's the best seeker this school has seen in a long time. A bit of an arse-kisser too."

Of course, she was. Only in Ben's world did the pretty girl he met end up being not only in his rival house, but also playing his position. He continued staring, watching as the girl ate from what appeared to be a bowl of ice cream, before Gwen's voice had him turning around.

"Armie is just a bit ticked because he had a crush on her fourth year," Gwen explained, laughing as she did so, "He's hated her since."

Hux's face crinkled in frustration. "Do not call me Armie! And I do not hate her—I just find her irritating. Such a know-it-all for a muggle-born."

Gwen seemed to wave off his comments and turned to Ben. "Say, you a pure-blood? Slytherin tends to have a higher percentage of them—we get a bad rep for it, but it is what it is!"

Yet another term he wasn't used to hearing. Such ideas of blood purity didn't exist in America. It took America _much_ longer to find a stride with No-Maj relations, but once they did, everyone seemed to co-exist_ mostly _peacefully.

Except two decades ago, when his grandfather and another dark wizard tried to change that peace.

He swallowed and shook his head. "My father's family is No-Maj. My mom comes from a long line of wizards."

Both Gwen and Hux burst into laughter. "No-Maj!" Gwen exclaimed, taking her best shot at an American accent, "That's adorable!"

Ben flushed and shrugged. "Muggles, to you all."

Hux chuckled and shook his head. "You're a riot, Ren. Say, let's head to common room—surely the house elves have moved your stuff in!"

With a nod, he rose to his feet. He followed Gwen and Hux out, aware that the attention of nearly the entire room was on him. It was unnerving.

He thought with a new name, he'd escape feeling like an animal in a cage. He'd escape the lineage he was constantly reminded of.

Yet even as a nobody, people just kept staring.

He looked forward to finally going to sleep.

-x-

The Slytherin common room was nothing like what he was used to. His living quarters within the Horned Serpent tower overlooked the Quidditch field and part of Mount Greylock, colored with warm reds and golds. He woke up every morning to the sunrise, one of the few bits of peace he had in his young life.

But here? Well, his new home was in a _dungeon_. The room itself was beautiful, styled with massive stone fireplaces, comfortable looking leather chairs and sofas, and a stunningly intricate chess board that immediately caught his attention.

It wasn't enough. It was dark, and cold, and damp.

Perhaps this new home was fitting—a constant reminder of the darkness he felt.

His sleeping quarters weren't much better. There were only five male Slytherin seventh years before he arrived—Hux, Dopheld Mitaka, twins Trudgen and Cardo Knight, and Tritt Opan—with the twins and Tritt in one room, and Hux and Mitaka in the other.

To balance out the rooms, an additional bed was placed in Hux and Mitaka's room, as well as the sleek trunk Ben carried his items in. The once glittering "BOS"—his initials—had been magically altered to simply read "KR".

Ben was starting to feel like he was living someone else's life.

He sat on the edge of his bed and brushed at Starkiller's black fur, thankful for one familiar face. His trusted cat, however, was far more focused on the other pets in the room. Mitaka's fat toad was contently in his small terrarium, its big eyes glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. Hux's ginger cat snoozed lazily on the edge of his bed, sprawled across the green blankets.

"Her name is Millicent," Hux explained, noticing Ben's interest in the pet, "My mum gave her to me two years ago." He waved to the black cat Ben held, "Yours?"

He cleared his throat. "Her name is Starkiller."

Hux raised an eyebrow. "Interesting name." He climbed into his bed and yawned, happily gathering the ball of orange fur into his arms, "Then again, so too is Kylo Ren."

"It's a long story," Ben explained, climbing into the unfamiliar bed. The moment his head hit the pillow, he shut his eyes.

His life was a long story.

At least sleep came easily.


	3. The Warlock's Hairy Heart

_The dark, hooded figure stood before him, his eyes glowing blood red. A blackthorn wand was pointed toward him, held tightly by five boney fingers. A crackling laugh escaped the figure, the noise unnerving._

"_I knew your compassion would be your undoing," The man spat, "Your love for that woman was your undoing then."_

_The man waved his wand, a purple blast striking him down. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before._

"_Now, the love for your son will kill you too."_

_Another blast of purple shot his way._

"_You should have learned then, Anakin."_

Ben's eyes shot open; his pajamas nearly soaked in sweat. His body ached and his chest felt tight. He sat up, carefully pulling Starkiller into his arms. He was desperate for some type of connection, even if this one was with a furry, half asleep cat.

He buried his face in her black fur, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

Was he merely having dreams of his own creation?

Or were these memories?

Memories of a man who died years before his birth.

With a swallow, he clutched the animal closer. "I will not be like him." He whispered gently, practically shaking, "I refuse to be like him."

Starkiller let out a purr and nuzzled into his clammy cheek.

"I'll make sure of it."

-x-

That morning, Rey could have sworn that every girl in Gryffindor—and likely the other houses—spent just a _little_ bit longer than usual getting ready for their day.

Jessika, who was known for sleeping until the last possible moment, seemed to be up and out of bed with the sun.

Jannah spent nearly ten minutes using a steaming spell to iron out any creases on her uniform.

Kaydel, who typically threw her hair into a casual pleat, instead sat in front of a mirror, twisting and curling her hair into a grand pleated crown that Rey had only seen on the cover of muggle fashion magazines.

Every bathroom, including the exclusive prefect facilities, seemed to reek of perfume, unnatural mixes of lavender, vanilla, rose, and unidentifiable floral. Girls as young as twelve were equipped with lip gloss and colorful barrettes to wear their hair in fancy up-dos.

What in Merlin's name was going on?

She walked to her first class of the day—N.E.W.T. level Ancient Runes—this time alone. She had wisely decided to get ready in the Prefect's bathroom, the Gryffindor facilities overrun with giggling girls. She enjoyed the extra space, but it also meant an unusually lonely walk to her classes.

"Bazine said he's just _lush_," a passing Slytherin fifth-year explained to her Ravenclaw friend, "I saw him talking to Armitage Hux and bloody hell, he's massive. Tall, looked muscular under those robes, and apparently, his voice is just delicious."

The Ravenclaw girl let out a squeal. "I heard a rumor he was part Veela. You reckon that's true?"

"Aren't Veelas normally blonde?" The Slytherin asked, her cheeks flushed.

"Not if they aren't full! I bet he is—he's pale but he's _gorgeous_."

The giggling girls disappeared up a staircase, allowing Rey to finally let out her stealthily contained snort.

How could this new student have already turned the school on its head after no more than 12 hours? Every girl Rey had encountered seemed to be going bloody mad—flushed cheeks, whispered giggles, and lips coated in glossy balms that sparkled in the daylight.

He was handsome—sure—and there was a novelty with him being new, but was all this attention warranted?

Rey entered her Ancient Runes classroom, wishing Professor Yoda a good morning, before sliding into her usual seat. Rose was already seated beside her, happily doodling away on one of her notebooks. When she noticed Rey's arrival, she glanced up and smiled.

"Merlin, you're the first girl I've seen today who doesn't look like a bloody clown!" She exclaimed, pausing to shade in the petals of the flower she had doodled, "Who'd have thought the arrival of a new bloke would get everyone's knickers in a twist!"

Rey nodded and began pulling her schoolbooks out of her bag. Embarrassingly, the bottom of the bag was filled with crumbs, mainly from six previous years of baked goods being smuggled out of the Great Hall in said bag. Once her school supplies were set in front of her, she turned to Rose.

"Thank you?" She touched at one of her buns, the same hair style she had worn for most of her life, wondering if maybe she _should_ have put more effort into her looks that morning, "I don't get what all the fuss is about either."

"Well, join the club. He's just another bloke!"

Rey cleared her throat. "I talked to him last night."

At her words, Rose froze, her journal and doodling abandoned. She glanced at Rey, her eyes wild. "You talked to him?" She screeched, flailing her hands with gusto, "Why didn't you say so? Merlin, Rey! What was he like? Was he handsome? Was his accent dreamy? How tall is he really? Did he smell good?"

Rey blinked a few times, surprised by Rose's intensity. "Erm, I thought you didn't care?"

Rose scoffed and shut her journal. "That was before you said you had talked to him! Word has it, he's only spoken to a few of the Slytherins!"

"And why should we care?" Rey continued, watching as more students filtered in, "It's not like he's in either of our houses."

The look Rose gave her could have killed. "Rey, he's a fit bloke. Use your bloody head!"

"Since when do you care about attractive blokes? Last time I checked, you were still doodling_ Mrs. Finn Storm_ all over your journals!"

Rose gasped and shushed her friend. "Blimey, Rey! Keep your voice down." The petite girl flushed and shook her head, looking forlorn, "He's given no indication that he fancies me. So. I'm happy to crack on with another guy."

At the mention of another guy, the current fascination of the entire school strolled in, looking mildly uncomfortable. Any conversations in the classroom immediately stopped, leaving Professor Yoda's muttering to himself as the only ambient noise.

Kylo stood by the entrance, clutching a black school bag in his hands. It wasn't a style most students at Hogwarts used—it looked more like something out of a muggle film than the bags sold at Diagon Alley or in Hogsmeade.

"Ah, Mr. Ren!" Professor Yoda explained excitedly, perched on top of one of his high stools, "Arrived you have!" Their Professor hummed excitedly before waving his wand, causing another stool to fly from a previously closed storage cabinet, "Come to me!"

The boy took slow steps, his eyes locked on the front of the classroom. He looked tense and Rey didn't blame him. She couldn't imagine being a new student, especially at his age.

Not to mention, most of the girls in the classroom were giving him googly eyes, Rose included.

"Our new student this is," Professor Yoda continued, looking comically small next to the tall boy, "Kylo Ren! Welcome him, you should." He hummed and waved his wand, causing the extra rune guide that Rose had theorized about the previous evening into Kylo's hand, "An even number of students we now have."

The class murmured excitedly by the prospect of an even number of students. While some projects occasionally allowed for a group of three, most left one unlucky student to partner with Professor Yoda. While he was incredible sweet and one of the most knowledgeable wizards alive, his unique way of speaking left most students scratching their heads.

"Pick a partner for today, you must!" Professor Yoda explained to the class, before looking to Kylo, "Pick first, you may."

Small gasps escaped nearly every student. Picking partners first was a coveted opportunity. But with the new student doing it?

Well, it was downright _juicy_.

Rey glanced around the room, confirming what she already knew. There was four Slytherins seventh years in the class—the Knight twins, Zorii Bliss, and Bazine Netal. Surely Kylo would pick from one of them—he presumably met at least most of them the night before.

But instead, the boy took cautious steps forward, stopping in front of Rey's table.

"Would you like to be my partner?" He asked slowly, staring at her with a pair of hypnotizing brown eyes.

She ignored Rose's soft gasp. Her mind immediately grew fuzzy.

The new student wanted to be partners with _her_? Why? Yesterday, all she had done was mentioned spotted dick to him! The boy didn't even know her name!

Instead of obsessing, Rey just stared at him and nodded, her cheeks flushing red.

"Pair up, the rest of you must!" Professor Yoda exclaimed, after watching the interaction, "Then begin, we will!"

As students jumped out of their seats to find their friends, Rey dumbly followed Kylo, ignoring the grin Rose was sending her. She was happy when Rose slid next to Klaud, another Hufflepuff, especially since the girls were normally partners and Kylo's arrival had changed that.

"I'm Rey by the way," She practically blurted out, "Rey Niima."

"Rey," He repeated after her, smiling gently, "I'm Kylo."

She sat at a back table with Kylo and watched as he began to empty his bag.

_Kylo_. Something about this boy had her insides buzzing.

A brand-new copy of _Advanced Rune Translatio_n appeared on his desk, along with a Rune book she wasn't familiar with and assumed was required readings in America. Emerald green notebooks followed, as well as a well-read copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

She gasped, shocked by the sight of the book. Most wizarding children read the stories while growing up. Since Rey was raised in the muggle-world, she found the tales much later. It was more than a bit surprising to find someone else her age holding onto the book.

"_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?" Rey asked, staring at the leather-bound copy, "It's one of my favorites!"

He nearly jolted in his seat and quickly tucked the book away. Despite his pink cheeks, he looked completely indifferent.

"I enjoy stories with morals," He explained, his voice soft, "Ones that stand the test of time."

Rey smiled and nodded. "Which is your favorite? I enjoy _The Tale of the Three Brothers_, but I do have a soft spot for _Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump_."

Kylo opened his fresh notebook and dipped his quill into ink. "I find myself rereading_ The Warlock's Hairy Heart_."

Rey blinked and watched the boy date the inside of his journal. What an…interesting choice. Most of the stories in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _were lighthearted, considering the stories were meant for children. They had darker elements—_The Tale of Three Brothers_ featuring murder and suicide, and _Babbitty Rabbitty_ featuring threats of beheading. But, the stories generally had happy endings with clear morals for their young readers.

Except _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_. Rey had read it once—only once—not willing to relieve the sad story yet again. The story focused on a young and handsome Warlock who viewed falling in love as a weakness, and in a bid to avoid doing so, uses the dark arts. While he is initially satisfied with his solitude, the gossiping of his servants drives him to seek out a beautiful wife. The maiden he desires is hesitant to fall in love with him since she believes he does not have a heart. To prove otherwise, the warlock shows the maiden a crystal casket in his dungeon that contains his own beating heart.

Because the warlock has lived so long without his heart, the heart has become hairy and lifeless. When the maiden encourages him to accept his heart again, the warlock attempts to do so, but is thwarted by the dark magic that has enchanted the organ. The dark magic of his hairy heart then drives the warlock with pure animalistic instinct to rip out the maiden's heart to exchange with his own, but dark magic prevents him from accepting her kind heart.

Unwilling to accept that he has been mastered by his own heart, he cuts it from his body. In doing so, he dies, leaving his body to rot with his heart in one hand, and the maiden's in the other.

The story traumatized Rey, even at age 11, when she first discovered _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

She can't begin to imagine how Kylo Ren could favor it.

"You…like that story?" Rey asked, rather curious.

Kylo flipped through the rune guide provided by Professor Yoda, only stopping briefly to glance at her. He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't say I…like it. I simply…understand it."

Rey wasn't sure how to respond. So, she did what she usually did when uncomfortable.

She laughed and cracked a joke.

"Is your heart in a cage somewhere?" She asked playfully, studying Kylo, "You'd just about break the heart of every girl at Hogwarts."

Kylo swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink. "Maybe it is. Any advice for how to save it?"

Rey considered his question, her face thoughtful. "I reckon a good shave would help? Best not be too hairy. Otherwise you'll look like a Pygmy Puff."

He shook his head, a soft smile across his lips. "Noted. Otherwise I might look like Chewie."

She paused, her nose crinkling in confusion. "Chewie?"

Kylo tensed, quickly focusing on his rune guide. He cleared his throat. "Isn't that…isn't that the name of the groundskeeper? He's…who brought me here."

"Oh! Chewbacca, yes. I've only ever heard Professor Skywalker call him Chewie," She explained, "Just took me by surprise."

He grabbed his quill, distracted by his work. "I see. My mistake."

Rey frowned a bit, wondering where the boy went. Their banter had been pleasant, flirty even. Then, it was gone.

"Well Chewbacca—"

Her words were cut off by him loudly opening his copy of Advanced Rune Translation. "We should get started on this." He suggested, his eyes locked on the guide in front of him, "Don't want to fall behind."

Rey frowned a bit. "Of course. Let's begin."

-x-

What a momentously stupid slip up on his part. What had he been thinking implying such close intimacy with Chewie? He was a groundkeeper to most of the students, sharing a handful of words with them over the course of seven years. To Ben, he had always just been Chewie, his father's best friend and a loyal confidant.

But to Kylo Ren, he was the hairy man who brought him to Hogwarts.

Nothing more than that.

Then, to hear Rey mention Uncle Luke?

He thought he was going to be sick.

He needed to be more careful. One slip-up with his name or a piece of information meant _The New York Ghost_ and _The Daily Prophet_ wreaking havoc on his life.

It meant his new classmates knowing him as nothing but the nephew of their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As nothing but the son of Quidditch World Cup Champion Han Solo.

As nothing but the grandson of Lord Vader, the second-in-command to Lord Palpatine, the evilest wizard to ever live.

He glanced at Rey, momentarily distracted by her devoted focus on their runes guide. She was by far the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Around her, there was a buzzing in his veins he couldn't explain, an impulse that made him sweat and want to shake.

The thought scared him.

He glanced at his copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, a sinking in his stomach. If the warlock could do it, couldn't Ben?

Sure, he didn't intend to literally remove his heart but…

There had to be a way.

Because it seemed simple enough. If he didn't fall in love, there was no way he would fall like Anakin.

With another glance at Rey, his heart screamed what his head already knew. If he was trying to avoid ever emoting, or feeling, or being enchanted by a woman, he would need to stay away from the Gryffindor. Something about her was…

Intoxicating.

He continued his rune translation, unable to stop from looking over at her one final time.

Something deep inside him told him he was already too late.

That there was no way he could simply get rid of her.

-x-

"How was it?" Rose nearly screamed, running up behind Rey as she exited the sixth-floor bathroom, "You like rushed out of class when it ended! I need all the details!"

Rey sighed and began her walk towards Defense Against the Dark Arts. While she appreciated her friend's enthusiasm, she also had felt off since class ended.

As if something earth-shattering happened during her conversation with Kylo.

Which was ridiculous, really. She barely knew the boy. But…

Around him, her entire body buzzed.

Sort of how she felt after four shots of Fire Whisky.

It was disappointing, too. Their conversation had been going well, filled with flirty banter and some interesting insights into the mysterious boy that was Kylo Ren.

Until something just…happened. After their discussion on Chewbacca, Kylo just shut down. In fact, besides asking her about an unfamiliar rune and a quick goodbye when the school bell rang, they hadn't exchanged a word since.

She wondered if she had done something wrong. Had she seemed too eager? Was he sick of all the female attention at the school and thought Rey was like one of the many giggling girls?

It was unfair, really—he had asked _her_ to be his partner, not the other way around!

"He's um…."

_An enigma_ was the first thought that came to mind.

"Intense."

"Oh, I believe that," Rose replied, turning into their DADA classroom, "Dark and mysterious and intense." She skipped to her usual desk that she shared with Kaydel and dropped her bag, before turning back to Rey. "He looks like he could be a bloody model for Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, you know? I'd clear the shelves at Diagon Alley if he popped up on the tin!"

Rey nodded mindlessly, her eyes instead straying to the front of the classroom, where Professor Skywalker hunched over one of his books, the tension clear across his face. Maybe it did confirm her position as a suck up, but she hated seeing her favorite Professor look so put off.

So, she carefully set her school bag down on her usual desk and pulled out a container of candyfloss she had purchased at Honeydukes before settling back into school. "I'll tell you more later, Rose!" She explained, before skipping to the front of the room.

She carefully approached her Professor's desk and cleared her throat. As soon as the man looked up from his book, she set the bag of candyfloss on his desk, offering a soft smile.

"I know you fancy it," She explained with a smile, "You told us it reminds you of muggle fairs in America."

For the first time this year, she watched her favorite Professor smile. Professor Skywalker took the bag and immediately opened it, pulling a piece of the pink candy and stuffing it into his mouth. With a delighted hum, he held out the bag for Rey.

"Have some," He offered, before ripping another piece for himself, "Your generosity should be rewarded."

Unable to turn down food—even food she gifted—Rey took a piece for herself and squealed as the stringy candy melted on her tongue. "Just delicious, isn't it? Pure sugar!"

Professor Skywalker laughed and set the bag down, seeming genuinely happy for once in the new year. "Thank you, Rey," He began, his voice soft, "I really needed that."

She just offered him a smile. "Any time, Professor."

As she turned on her heels, ready to join Finn at her usual desk, her Professor's voice made her pause.

"And Rey," His voice was soft, knowing, "Let's continue our lessons. You have incredible magical abilities, and with a wand crafted of Ash, there is no magic you can't master. Let's harness these abilities." He moved to his chalkboard, glancing at her again, "I have enough connections at the Ministry. If you want to be an Auror, we will make that happen. The Auror Office is just one owl away."

His words sent her heart into a frenzy. Rey wasn't entirely sure if becoming an Auror was her absolute dream, but it didn't matter in the moment. It was an option, one that was close enough she could taste it.

That was enough.

She gulped and nodded. "I appreciate that, Professor Skywalker."

"We'll chat later. Take a seat."

Not needing to be told twice, she slid into her seat, ignoring a curious glance from Finn. With shaking hands, she pulled out her journal and copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_. Normally, she'd be delighted to flip into one of her favorite textbooks, excited to listen to Professor Skywalker talk about his incredible journey as a wizard.

Instead, all she could think about was her future.

It took her a few moments to realize Professor Skywalker had begun his lecture.

"—Quite similar to the Reductor Curse, but far more destructive. I've been informed that Professor Fisto taught you this during your fifth year, and given that we are in a N.E.W.T. level class, I would assume you all are comfortable with such a spell?" Professor Skywalker paused as his students voiced words of agreement, and then continued, "Splendid. So, today we will delve into—"

His words died in his throat as the sound of the door opening filtered into the classroom. All 21 heads turned around, watching to see who was entering the room.

The darkness of the doorway nearly obstructed his face, but his now undeniable height made Kylo Ren unmissable. He took slow steps forward, his dark robes flowing behind him. Once in the room, he paused, making direct eye contact with Rey's beloved Professor.

Maybe the rest of her classmates missed it—either because they didn't know Professor Skywalker like she did_ or _because they hadn't looked away from Kylo—but Rey immediately noticed the way the man's face twisted in aggravation.

"Tell me, Mr…" Professor Skywalker paused, his irritation evident, "Ren, are you familiar with punctuality? I do believe they practice it in America—I did spend half my life there."

The boy looked uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the classroom, just staring at his Professor. Without a desk, he was homeless, now with the attention of every last student on him. Kylo appeared to shift on his feet, letting his school bag fall to the floor.

His eyes darkened, his lips turning into a sneer.

It wasn't a face Rey had previously seen on the mysterious new student.

"I was lost." Kylo explained, his gaze unwavering from their Professor, "The map I was provided with is enchanted to become blank at random times."

Professor Skywalker leaned against his desk, his arms crossed. He did not look amused. "I do believe a talented wizard would be able to undo such an enchantment."

"_I do believe_ a fine institution such as Hogwarts should be able to provide a map that doesn't have such enchantments," Kylo sneered back, before producing the offending parchment from his robe, "_I do believe_ this is a practice seen in America. I should know—I'm from there."

Soft gasps filled the room, most students watching in horror. She heard a snort from the back of the room that she immediately identified as being from Armitage Hux, as well as a nervous giggle that Rey just knew belonged to Rose.

Students at Hogwarts were relatively well-behaved. Hijinks or disobedience weren't usually directed at Professors, especially ones as well-liked as Professor Skywalker.

This meant Kylo's attitude was most certainly a first, even over six years of schooling for Rey.

Professor Skywalker moved away from his desk, standing to his full height. He stared down the new student, the wrinkles in his eyes more noticeable than ever.

"Take the vacant seat beside Mr. Hux, Mr. Ren. We will revisit this conversation when class is over. I believe you have done enough disservice to your classmates—your lip has lost them precious educational time."

Kylo didn't move, continuing to—Rey swore he was glaring, but she almost refused to believe it—watch Professor Skywalker.

"Must I repeat myself, Mr. Ren? Surely you're familiar with the English language—Or shall I speak in Parseltongue?"

More murmuring filled the classroom. Rey couldn't look away, instead watching the way Kylo's jaw twitched at their Professor's sass. She didn't know Kylo—not really, anyway—but even she could tell he was furious.

Why did he have to look so handsome while angry?

Kylo finally took the high road and stormed over to his new desk, ignoring the curious glances from his classmates. He dropped beside Hux and dug into his school bags, his hands seeming to shake with anger.

Rey finally got the strength to turn back around. Professor Skywalker had reappeared at his chalkboard.

"Now, as I was saying before we were so _rudely_ interrupted. Turn to page 85."

-x-

All he could feel for the duration of his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class was _seething_ rage. The audacity of his Uncle to chastise him like that—especially in front of his new classmates. He barely knew these people and his Uncle was already trying to ruin his budding friendships.

Just like his Uncle too—Luke quite enjoyed talking the talk, but never walking the walk. How difficult would it be to support Ben through such a difficult time? He was late, yes, but he was genuinely lost. Would it truly be difficult for his Uncle to cut him some slack?

Ben knew he would for any other student.

But not Ben. Never Ben.

He stood at his desk, watching as the rest of his classmates filtered out of the classroom, offering nervous glances in his direction. He already was being talked about enough—just by virtue of his nationality and new student status—but this made things _far _worse.

When the last student left, a petite Hufflepuff with curious eyes, Ben watched his Uncle step away from his platform and tread slowly towards him, his eyes angry. Ben stuffed his books in his backpack, no longer caring about the state of his brand-new books and journals.

"You were raised better, you know?" His Uncle began, his arms crossed, "And now look at you. A petulant _child _with a chip on his shoulder."

Ben clenched his fists. "You know_ nothing _about me!"

His Uncle let out a laugh, a short noise that grated on his nerves. "I know everything about you…" He eyed his student up and down, his eyes glimmering, full of humor, "_Kylo_."

Without a second thought, Ben pulled out his wand, pressing the wood into his Uncle's chest. Threatening his Uncle with his wand wasn't something new—he had been doing it since the moment he had a wand in his hands.

The pair of them had a rather...tumultuous relationship.

Even Ben and his father could bond over certain things—Quidditch, butterbeer, the occasional wizard rock record. But Ben and Luke?

They would argue about the color of the sky if given the chance.

"I see a child romanticizing the darkness of the world—an inexperienced wizard giving into the whims of a tainted legacy and a Blackthorn wand," Luke spat, edging closer and closer to his nephew, "You are volatile, and arrogant, but most of all, a _disgrace_."

"STUPEFY!"

His words were lost. Luke's wand was too quick for his own, easily deflecting the spell with his own counter curse.

"You want to be an adult but you refuse to act like one! Always resorting to magic instead of using your words!"

Ben let out a harsh laugh and ran a shaky hand through his hair, his once perfectly coiled locks spilling around his face. "And _you_, the _Savior of the Wizarding World_, think you are any better? You're a hypocrite! Delusional! A_ fraud._"

The words seemed to freeze Luke on the spot. His jaw twitched as he spoke.

"Am I now?"

"Yes!" Ben cried, his cheeks flushing from their argument, "Leading the world to believe you are some grand wizard, acting alone. But he assisted you, didn't he? Until the very end?"

His Uncle clenched his fists. "You would never understand. You weren't there."

"Was I not?" Ben spat, his eyes wild, "I dream about it enough."

His words clearly took Luke by surprise. The older man simply stood there, watching his nephew with concerned curiosity.

"You...dream about it?"

"As if you fucking care!" his words were vicious, unforgiving, "How you're even allowed to work with children after how you've treated so many is beyond me. You're a miserable excuse for a man, not to mention a fraud. You should be the one person I can count on. Instead, I _hate _you."

It was then that his world seemed to shift on its axis. It started with a soft feminine gasp and ended with Ben meeting hazel eyes and flushed, freckled cheeks. The Gryffindor, Rey, stood in the doorway, staring at the pair.

"Rey—" His Uncle began.

"I—I—my—" She waved to the desk she had abandoned, specifically a red and gold journal sitting atop it. In seconds, Luke had the journal flying to her hands. Once it was in her possession, she took a careful step back, her eyes locked on Ben's.

He swallowed and looked towards his feet, unable to meet her confused eyes. She looked crushed—as if his words had been targeted at her, and not the man who had complicated his life since his birth.

"It's best you go, Mr. Ren," his Uncle began, his back turned to the students, "I have my lesson with third-years to prep for."

Before Ben or even Rey could get a word out, Luke had stormed up the staircase in the front of the room, disappearing into his private office. Once the heavy stone door shut, the silence in the classroom was simply unbearable.

Ben took a moment to shut his eyes, desperately trying to figure out what to say to the girl beside him. He wasn't sure how much she heard. Did she care? Was she suspicious? Was she simply shocked by the way he spoke to a Professor?

He couldn't think for long. She spoke first.

"You…" She shook her head quickly, abandoning her first line of thought, "You don't get to come in here, to a place you do not consider your home, and start attacking it!" She cried out.

She took a shaky breath before continuing. "How dare you attack Professor Skywalker's character—he's—he's—he's the best man I know!" She nearly shouted, her cheeks flushed red, "He cares about his students, and Hogwarts, and helping to defeat any sign of darkness in our world!"

Ben finally opened his eyes. "It would be wise not to look at Luke Skywalker as some sort of father figure."

His words cut so deep that Rey didn't catch the intimacy in which he spoke Luke's name. Instead, she clenched her fists, tears growing in her eyes.

"You don't know me!" She choked out, staring him down, "Not at all!"

Ben laughed and stepped closer to her; his eyes mad. "But I do, Rey. You're just like me. Looking for guidance in all the wrong places."

"Excuse me?" Her cheeks looked wet. It made his heart hurt.

"Let me guess—you think he's going to train you. Mold you into the next great Auror. The next great Wizarding warrior."

Rey took another step back, edging closer and closer to the door of the classroom. "Shut up. You don't know anything!"

"You think he'll teach you it all—even what school would never touch. Unique curses and spells. Legilimency. Occlumency. How to properly align yourself with the wood of your wand."

She shook her head, her movements frantic. "STOP!"

"But he'll let you down. He is no savior. He is a _coward_."

The room grew silent, sans the sounds of Ben's labored breaths and her soft sniffles. He moved to the door, passing her shaking form. It nearly tore his body apart—as if it physically hurt to leave her.

But as he passed the door frame, he heard her soft voice, her accent like a melody to his world-weary ears.

"Did you know Professor Skywalker before you got to Hogwarts?"

He didn't need to lie. For once, he was able to tell the truth.

"No. Not really."

Without a second thought, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving nothing but regrets in his wake.

-x-

He was so handsome, with chocolate brown eyes and pale glowing skin. He stood a head above every other student at the school, not to mention, most of the Professors. He walked with a determined stride, his face constantly set with indifference, the inability to read him making him even more attractive.

He was a dream in his black robes and his Slytherin green tie.

With his perfectly styled dark hair, he looked like he belonged in one of the muggle movies Rey had watched growing up.

He was smart, he was sweet, and he was perfect.

Until moments ago. Everything had changed in simple minutes.

He was rude, he was arrogant, and he was exactly the type of wizard Rey loathed.


	4. The Irredeemable Arsehole

_Three figures appeared, shrouded in darkness. One laid in agony, the other two with their wands drawn._

"_Young fool...only now, at the end, do you understand."_

_Red met green in a fury of lightning and fire, two wands—one Blackthorn, the other of Holly—poised for battle._

"_Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side. You have paid the price for your lack of vision."_

_Twin screams echoed across the glowing chamber._

_Then, silence._

Ben opened his eyes, staring directly into the evening sky. His nerves buzzed and his body shivered, although whether that was from his dream or the beginning of a September rain shower, he wasn't sure.

After his argument with Rey, he abandoned the castle. His original intention was to go to Chewie's hut and demand to have a floo conversation with his parents—he needed to express how awful of a decision it was to entrust Ben _anywhere_ near his Uncle's care.

But, at the arrival of Chewie's hut, the groundskeeper was gone, so Ben decided on an alternative escape. He transfigured his robe into a blanket and laid it out beside the shore of the Black Lake, dropping to join the wool on the cold ground.

For almost an hour, he simply stared at the dark, glittering waters, wondering if he lived a cursed life.

He watched students fly kites and play tag and train their pets and laugh._ Smile_.

Enjoy their lives.

He wondered if he had ever experienced such feelings of delight. Uninhibited joy.

That melancholy put him to sleep.

Now, a few hours later, he was just as miserable with his situation. Without his robe on, and with his uniform wet from the rain, he was freezing. Even worse, he was hungry. But, despite his appetite, there was no way he could reappear in the Great Hall.

Not even if the house elves served American classics like macaroni and cheese or apple pie.

He couldn't interact with other students. He couldn't take their feigned concern, their obsessive interest, their unyielding stares.

It was all_ too_ much.

The cruelest type of sensory overload.

"Ren!" A familiar Irish voice shouted.

Ben sat up and took a deep breath, wondering if he could deal with his roommate. Even if he considered Armitage a friend, or at least his closest one since he started, he wasn't in the mood to chat.

The redheaded boy appeared in front of him, clad in Quidditch practice robes and holding his broom. He smiled at Ben and waved the expensive Quidditch equipment.

"Weather is grand—perfect for Quidditch!" Hux exclaimed, before kicking at Ben's wrist, "Go change into some practice robes. A bit of rain is the best way to hit the pitch!"

Ben was prepared to say no—ready to hop on his feet and run away from the budding friendship. But, with the thought of the wind slapping against his body as he flew around a Quidditch field, his mind focusing on only the feeling of flight, he knew it wasn't an opportunity he could pass up.

So he didn't.

"Just us?" Ben found himself asking, before gingerly standing up.

Hux grinned. "Just us, mate. We'll take some laps, get a practice kit, and go."

Ben nodded slowly. "Yeah...that sounds nice."

As he ventured towards the Slytherin dormitories, it occurred to him that the prospect of flying was the first thing to make him smile since arriving at Hogwarts.

Except, of course, a pair of hazel eyes and freckled cheeks.

-x-

"—Snap overheard Zorii and apparently, Kylo is going to be the new seeker for Slytherin!" Finn shared haughtily, clearly thrilled with for once, being in _the know_, "Which means you lot at Gryffindor are in for an interesting season!"

Poe rolled his eyes and scooped a massive spoonful of casserole onto his plate. "Who cares? At least we _have_ a team," he replied snarkily, "Much better than the second years in pads you lot are relying on."

Finn crossed his arms. "It's a rebuilding year."

"You won't be here next year," Poe reminded him, before stuffing a forkful into his mouth, "So it doesn't really matter."

The two boys stared at each other, seemingly sizing one another up. Rey wanted to be interested—really, especially since there was always a layer of _heat_ to the looks they shared—but she couldn't be. She had too much on her mind.

"_Well,_" Rose piped in, her words having a musical quality, "If _anyone_ knows all about Kylo, it's Rey."

Finn and Poe turned to Rey, eying her curiously.

"Oh? Why is that?" Finn asked. When Rey merely shrugged and instead focused on her plate of food, Finn shoved the plate away. "You owe us details!"

She sighed and slammed her fists on the table. When her friends jumped back, surprised by her actions, she knew she had gone too far—a childish overreaction. But she couldn't help it.

"Yes, we talked. We were partners in Ancient Runes. I reckon you want my opinion on him?" At her friends nods, she snorted. "Right—splendid—he's an irredeemable _arsehole_."

Her closest friends had much different reactions—Poe snorted, clearly amused by the news. Finn nodded, seemingly processing her take with whatever opinions he had made. Rose, however, looked downright confused.

"An arsehole? How? You two were—I thought—you _blushed_!" Rose squeaked, waving at Rey, "You can deny it Rey Niima, but I saw you _blush_ during Ancient Runes!"

Rey crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "What if I did? You're right—I may have fancied him for a few moments! But he…" She shook her head and took a calming breath, "I saw him being a prat with Professor Skywalker, and when I confronted him about it, he turned that downright _awful_ arrogance on me."

Rose pursed her lips, displeased with the news. "What could he have possibly said that was so bad?"

"Well, for starters, he accused me of looking at Professor Skywalker as a father figure," Rey shook her head, getting just as angry as before by merely_ thinking_ about their interaction, "Him, a boy I've known for what, 48 hours?" She angrily pulled her plate back to her and forked a potato chunk, "He proved in just minutes that he sees himself as far superior to any one of us, students and professors included."

Poe shrugged. "He was sorted into Slytherin—what else did you expect?"

"It doesn't matter," Rey shot back darkly, ignoring Poe's words, "If he's going to be Slytherin's seeker, I'll teach him a lesson easily. Perhaps send his arse back across the pond while I'm at it."

Rose sighed and shook her head, seeming to refuse to believe Rey. "He's so handsome! Can he really be that awful?"

"Yes. He…" She shook her head, unwilling to consider why she felt so sad about the entire ordeal, "He was so cruel. For no reason at all."

With pursed lips, Rose nodded slowly. "I see. But…You don't need to talk to him while you snog."

Rey sighed and dropped her fork. "Really, Rose?"

"I'm just saying! You could use a snog."

"And who exactly are you snogging?" Finn shot back, glancing at Rose with narrowed eyes, "You got a boyfriend? A cute boyfriend?"

Rose shrugged, playing coy. "We're talking about Rey, not me."

"If Rey needs to practice snogging, I volunteer my time," Poe interrupted, "I've been told I'm skilled."

"Really?" Finn looked genuinely surprised, "I've heard you're all tongue."

"Would you like to find out?"

Finn opened his mouth, just staring at the tan boy across from him. The question had clearly taken him by surprise.

While Rey would have usually enjoyed watching their innocent flirting, she couldn't do it today. "Oy, get a room will you two?" She muttered darkly, before taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Ignoring their surprised glances, she jumped to her feet. "I'm heading to the library. I need to start that Potions essay."

"I can join! I need to start too," Finn began, pushing his plate away to demonstrate his readiness, "I think it would be helpful to start—"

"No thanks," Rey cut him off, "I think I'd like to be alone for a little bit."

Before her friends could push her any further, she was gone.

-x-

Rey spent approximately two and a half hours in the library without a single disturbance. About an hour in, she noticed a bewildered Gryffindor first year eying her over a stack of Transfiguration books, momentarily worrying her that her Potions essay would be interrupted to help tutor the kid who's name she didn't even remember.

On any other day, she would have been willing to help any lower classmen in need, regardless of house, but she simply didn't have it in her today. Thankfully, the kid stopped staring and eventually left, lured out by a first year Hufflepuff who Rey heard excitedly whispering about Fizzing Whizzbees.

Since then, she was lulled into her work by the sound of pages turning and the occasional ghost traveling by.

Until a pair of previously hard-working Ravenclaws began to whisper at the table beside her.

"He's here?" One of them gasped, clearly trying to keep her voice down, "Are you sure?"

The other girl nodded eagerly. "I saw him when I came back from the toilet! He's in the Potions section."

"Merlin's beard," The first murmured, abandoning her Herbology textbook to fluff at her hair, "How do I look?"

"Like it matters!" The second screeched, "He's foreign _and_ a seventh year. We don't stand a chance!"

Rey slammed her textbook shut, desperately trying to keep her temper in check. Leave it to Kylo Ren to spoil her pleasant study time—she had known the boy for less than 48 hours and yet, that particular Thursday was by far the worse day she had ever had at Hogwarts.

No thanks to him.

She managed to toss her books and half-finished essay into her school bag before storming towards the Potions section. She wasn't sure what she would say or why she was going straight towards him, but it was as if her body _demanded_ it.

Just as the Ravenclaw had told her friend, Kylo Ren stood in the Potions section of the library, reading the back cover of a book. With a sigh, he seemed to replace a large volume back on the shelf, before grabbing a smaller book beside it.

"I was finishing my Potions essay in a pleasant silence until you showed up," Rey began, causing the boy to jump and turn to face her, "It's like everywhere you go, you draw a crowd. Practically have a fan club, I reckon, if those two girls cackling about you are any indication."

Kylo cleared his throat and replaced the smaller book, seeming to abandon his task in Rey's presence. "I'm sorry your studying was disturbed," He began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, "But it isn't as if I recruited anyone to talk about me."

Rey snorted and crossed her arms. "I'm sure you enjoy it though. You're just the type."

"The type?" He probed, watching her curiously.

"A narcissist."

Kylo shifted on his feet. "I see."

"Do you deny it?"

"Is there any point?" He asked instead, "You passed judgement about me relatively quickly."

Rey snorted. "And the same could be said about you to me! Not to mention, Professor Skywalker!"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The way his soft locks caught between his thick fingers momentarily hypnotized Rey. In fact, she didn't come out of her haze until he spoke again.

"I was a bit harsh. I apologize," His voice was surprisingly soft, "Perhaps we could start over?"

His question took her by surprise. It certainly went against her narrative of him being an irredeemable arsehole. Could he truly have just been having a bad day?

She pursed her lips and shrugged. "I dunno. I reckon that might be hard. Are you going to be Slytherin's new Seeker?"

Kylo nodded slowly. "It…has been discussed, yes. I would like to."

Rey shrugged again. "Might be hard, you know? Me in Gryffindor, you in Slytherin. Both of us playing Seeker. Me admiring Professor Skywalker, you _hating_ him."

He tensed at her words. "Is there no merit in trying?"

"In trying what? To be friendly?"

If Rey hadn't previously decided his only two emotions were indifference and anger, she would have sworn he looked sheepish. "To be friends," He admitted, his voice soft, "I don't have many of those."

She considered his words—not to mention the dreamy look of concern painted across his features. Was she being too harsh? Rey didn't like drama—she avoided it to the best of her ability. But Kylo Ren? Well, he just _screamed_ drama.

"Will you tell me why you, by your own words, hate Professor Skywalker?" She asked instead, watching him closely for any indication of his true feelings, "Why were you two going at it when I walked in?"

Kylo stepped away from her, his face pinched in discomfort. "I…" He shook his head, "I can't tell you that."

"And why not?" She exclaimed, both frustrated by his silence and her own curiosity, "Don't_ friends_ share things like that?"

He glanced away, locks of his dark hair falling to cover his eyes. "Things are not always as they seem, Rey."

_Rey_. Merlin, the way he said her name practically made her shake. His voice was so deep and unique. Not to mention, his accent nearly made her swoon.

"I see. Well, Kylo Ren, I'm an open book," Rey began, meeting his chocolate gaze, "I've got nothing to hide because I've got nothing to tell. If you want to be friends, I'd need the same type of commitment from you. As it is, honesty is the best policy."

She watched him closely, wondering if her words had any sway. Merlin knew she _desperately _wanted to know what his row with Professor Skywalker was about.

Instead, Kylo merely shook his head.

"I can't," Was all he whispered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Rey stepped away. "Right. Then we can't start over."

He glanced back at her as soon as the words left her lips. If Rey knew any better, she would have sworn he looked sad, disappointed even. But she didn't know better. All she knew about Kylo Ren was that he had a short temper and secrets that he was unwilling to share.

"I see." His voice was colder this time, the softness of earlier disappearing, "Then I guess I'll see you around, Rey."

Rey turned on her heels and began to walk away, unwilling to look at him again.

"I guess you will." She tossed over her shoulder.

She couldn't see his reaction, but oddly enough, she thought she could feel it.

Apparently four days of her seventh year was long enough.

She was already going nutters.

-x-

When Friday evening finally rolled around, Ben felt like he had just barely survived the longest two days of his life. In his rather short seventeen years, he'd spent a couple of days regrowing his right humerus bone after a magical mishap by his father at age eight, survived a short case of mumblemumps at age twelve, and even endured one of his father's No-Maj vacations where for forty-eight hours straight, they drove along the famous Route 66. For fifteen-year-old Ben, it was a form of torture.

But even being stuffed into a hot No-Maj car that was approximately thirty years old, or being forced to listen to his father sing old Wizard folk tunes the entire way, was nothing in comparison to how awful his life at Hogwarts had been.

Everyone stared at him. Everyone whispered. Every girl he passed smelled of saturated sweetness and flowers, making him feel like he was being buried alive in a perfumery. He could admit that most of the students were relatively nice, but plenty decided to hate him early on. He wasn't sure if it was being American, or the attention from the female students, or what, but he found himself easily disliked without muttering a single word.

Hux assured him that some students took the Slytherin stigma quite seriously.

"_The whole lot of them go on and on about how welcoming and wonderful Hogwarts is_," His familiar Irish voice went on, earlier during their brief time flying around, "_But the other houses are the most prejudiced! Most Slytherins treat students from other houses the same way they treat their own housemates. But it's fun for the other houses to hate us. Call us evil. Say we're all dabbling in the dark arts_."

Ben had watched the redheaded boy fly around, his green practice kit sticking to his skin with sweat. "_Is there any truth to it?_" He couldn't help but ask, thinking about the whispers he heard, "_Does Slytherin produce more dark magic users_?"

Hux just kept flying around, not a care in the world. "_It's bollocks, Ren. Sure, we've produced some dark wizards, but so has every other house. Slytherins are just ambitious. Resourceful. Some people don't like that. Thinks it makes us opportunistic. Inherently selfish_."

"_How do you handle the bias_?" Ben had asked, his voice weary, knowing it was just his luck to have a new target on his back.

But his question merely made Hux laugh. "_How do I handle it? Well, I just remember that one day, I'll be a high-ranking Ministry official or a member of the Wizengamot while arrogant Gryffindors like Poe Dameron will be hawking hair growth potions to middle-aged twats in Diagon Alley_."

When their flying practice ended, Ben skipped dinner in the Great Hall, unwilling to face his new peers, and instead returned to his dormitory for an evening of holding Starkiller and eating some of the sweets Chewie had gifted him. At first taste, he found the British chocolate to be much less sweet than his liking, but the candy was a far better alternative to eating dinner in the Great Hall.

Friday was equally as uncomfortable. He skipped breakfast too and went straight to his classes, today's schedule being N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures. Hux was in Transfiguration and Charms, and he found himself oddly comforted by the stern voice of Gwen Phasma in Care of Magical Creatures.

It allowed him to ignore the disapproving looks of a few Hufflepuffs.

And one particular Gryffindor.

Because somehow, Rey was in every one of his classes. It made focusing—or making new friends—incredibly difficult, if he was honest with himself. While he wanted to pinpoint her beauty as the main point of distraction, it was mainly how disconcerting her intense glare was.

He couldn't understand why—or how—this girl, an acquaintance of not even forty-eight hours, could hate him so terribly.

He had a tendency to put his foot in his mouth, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he upset her. Maybe he had taken his own personal insecurities and disappointments with Luke out on Rey.

But he apologized.

It wasn't enough.

He never was.

It was exactly why when the sun went down, and the atmosphere in the castle went from quiet study to celebration for the weekend, he slipped out to venture to Chewie's hut.

How ironic was it that his closest friend was also his father's?

The burly man was quick to open the door at Ben's knock and ushered him in with a smile. Before Ben had fully settled in the oversized chair, a plate of potatoes and an unidentified meat appeared in front of him, as well as a steaming cup of tea.

Ben couldn't complain.

He hadn't been in the Great Hall—and by extension, eaten real food—since lunch on Thursday.

This was much needed.

As he tore into the tender meat, Chewie watched on. "How have your first few days gone?" He asked out of the blue, catching Ben in-between a mouthful of potatoes, "Made any friends?"

Ben took a sip of tea and shifted, offering Chewie a slow nod. "I guess, yeah. A few of the Slytherins."

"Friends in any other houses?" Chewie followed with, before making himself a plate of food, "Hogwarts is all about interhouse friendships. Your friends don't only have to be in your house."

The comment made Ben snort, especially after hearing Hux's take on the so called "interhouse friendships". He knew the feelings from a student would be_ much_ different than from a staff member on Hogwarts' pay roll.

"No friends in other houses," Ben explained, his voice short, "Although I think I have a fan club _and_ an enemy."

The enemy, he was certain—Rey's hateful hazel gaze made his stomach flip whenever he thought about it. The fan club, he was less certain of, but Mitaka had mentioned it during his Charms class, and whenever Ben turned a hallway, he seemed to find no less than six second-year girls of various houses, standing and watching him with wide eyes.

Chewie barked with laughter, bits of food flying out of his mouth as his body shook with delight. "Kid, you're more like your dad than you think!" He explained, before taking a gulp of tea to calm himself, "I tell you, it's uncanny!"

Ben pursed his lips and shrugged. "I think I'm also going to play seeker for Slytherin. The first practice is tomorrow morning and they need a seeker since theirs graduated so… We'll see what happens."

The burly man smiled fondly and shook his head. "You really are like your father."

"I would beg to differ. And even if I was, it's not like he's around enough to notice."

And Han wasn't. After years of being one of the best Quidditch players in the world, he finally retired. Ben, at age twelve, naively thought it meant his father would be, well, his dad again.

Instead, his father took on a coaching job for the Sweetwater All-Stars.

In Texas.

Even when he was offered a coaching job for the Fitchburg Finches, the Quidditch team he spent his entire career playing for.

The team that was located not even two hours away from his childhood home in Vermont.

Maybe twenty minutes by broom.

Chewie frowned and stood up, beginning to gather their plates. The once relaxed atmosphere of their makeshift dinner was long gone. Ben was content to sit in silence—Chewie washing dishes was more peaceful than if he was in his dormitory—but it didn't last for long.

"Your parents love you," Chewie explained, manually drying the dishes with a dish towel of questionable freshness, "I know they're busy, but, I promise. They love you."

Ben closed his eyes, thinking of cold nights in Vermont—his dad in Texas, coaching, his mother in New York, practically running MACUSA—and frowned. "Then why am I here?"

He hated how young he sounded.

"They're trying to protect you. After…" Chewie sighed and rubbed his face, "The accident. You really scared them. They thought—"

Ben looked away, not really in the mood to discuss this again. "I know what they thought. That I was trying to hurt myself."

Chewie studied him; his eyes sad. "Were you?"

"No." Which was true. He hadn't been.

He was trying to _fix_ himself. To make the voices stop.

To end the dreams.

But no one understood.

Just like no one understood him.

"You should get back, kid," Chewie explained, surprising Ben by not continuing to prod him for information, "Students aren't supposed to be out of the castle past a certain time."

Ben nodded weakly and stood up, his stomach in knots with the thought of returning. With a quiet "thank you" and "goodnight", he began his journey back to the castle, nothing but darkness surrounding him.

Nothing really had changed.

Where he went, darkness followed.


	5. A Pair of Fine Eyes

"_There is a nature to the dark side…"_

Rey stared at the thick burgundy curtains hanging from the window beside her bed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Despite the stresses of the day weighing heavy on her limbs and busy mind, sleep was unreachable. With the heavy curtains blocking any moonlight, and the lack of the muggle technology she grew to love—she loved being a witch, but she did on occasion miss her mobile—it was nearly impossible to figure out the time of night.

It meant Rey had no idea how long she spent laying in her bed, desperate for sleep to consume her. Every one of her suitemates seemed to be asleep, based on the three separate snores timing off in random increments. In fact, even Dee seemed to be asleep, her cat's furry bum resting comfortably on her normally chilly feet.

"_There is always a place for you with me."_

The voices were especially active that evening. Every sentence uttered into the night was a siren song at her ears, just begging her to follow their promises into the darkness. It was starting to get harder and harder to ignore them, especially when their presence seemed to intensify every night. It wreaked havoc on her mind, her soul, and most importantly to Rey, her sleep schedule. With seven N.E.W.T. level classes, Quidditch, and her roles as a prefect, sleep was _everything_ to Rey.

"_We must pass all the tests we face… Or die in the effort."_

She had no choice. On shaky legs, desperate to ignore the call and the meaning of the worlds, she climbed out of bed and slipped into her slippers and dressing gown. With a soft muttering of "_Lumos_", she hurried out of her dormitory and into the rest of the castle.

It was a quick journey to the Hospital Wing, and Madam Kalonia handed her over a vial of Sleeping Draught with little fanfare. Their resident nurse seemed prepared for the bombardment of sixth and seventh years requesting the sought-after potion. Students were known to resort to a dose or two when the year got stressful and sleep eluded them. It wasn't necessarily the most recommended method for anxious students, but when Hogwarts used to forbid the use of the draught, students found other more….

Illegal variations.

It meant the pretty purple vials joined the likes of contraceptive potions in Madame Kalonia's locked cabinet. These draughts were not advertised nor promoted, but if students asked for either, they would receive them, no questions asked.

Rey returned to her dormitory, the vial tight in her sweaty hands. Madame Kalonia probably thought she was manic—only a week into the school year and already anxious enough to need a dose of the potion. She, of course, was unaware of the true reason Rey needed the elixir.

If she knew, Rey had a feeling she'd be forced into a lot worse than just a stern conversation with the friendly nurse.

When she returned to her bed, the taste of lavender and valerian root on her tongue, sleep came easily. But the draught was only a temporary fix. Unlike the potion she truly sought out—one of the dreamless variety—this draught did nothing to rid her mind of the nightmares that plagued her.

It meant the voices prevailed, even in the comfort of slumber.

"_You're not alone. I hear them too."_

-x-

The weekend came and went far faster than Ben would have liked. Half of his first Saturday at Hogwarts was spent on the Quidditch field, effectively _trying out_ for the Slytherin team. Phasma ran the practice like a drill sergeant, intent to run her teammates ragged whenever given the chance. She felt it built character, but as Hux had quipped, "_It just builds her ego and superiority complex_."

Ben agreed. But he had grown to like and respect Phasma in the few days he knew her. She was wildly passionate about Quidditch, and perhaps most importantly, had given Ben the position as Seeker on the team. For the first time since arriving, he finally felt like he belonged.

The fun of Saturday drifted into the stress of Sunday, when he spent most of the day coped up in the library, desperate to finish a potions essay and a Transfiguration assignment. Ben wasn't nearly prepared for the learning curve of changing not only countries, but also schools. He was unfamiliar with certain ingredient and potions, and in some cases, hadn't learned some of what was expected of him. He was warned of this by Chewie, but also told that later in the year, he may be ahead of his peers for the same reason. He looked forward to reviewing lessons already learned in Ilvermorny and thus giving him the upper hand in his classes. Really, he looked forward to anything that would make him look good in the eyes of his classmates.

Since, well, most of them seemed to eye him with fear or thinly veiled disdain. Except Rey of course. There was nothing subtle about her hatred towards him. Every time he found himself in her presence, it was impossible to ignore her eyes on his every move. He felt how deeply she loathed him with every breath he took.

That only intensified on Monday, when he found himself back in the unfamiliar classrooms of the centuries old castle. He survived his Transfiguration class without too much stress. With Hux beside him, it was easy to listen to the Irish fellow drone on about his cat's odd behavior or how awful the food during breakfast hours had become.

It was a worthy distraction from paying any attention to Rey. He wondered if it was just the morning hour of the class, or the rather challenging assignment given to them, but she didn't seem to be looking at Ben at all. It momentarily—and naively—gave him a false hope that maybe, just maybe, they could look past their differences and become friends.

Or, civil, at the very least. The Skywalker-Organa-Solo clan tended to incite drama, and all Ben wanted, especially with an assumed identity, was to break free from that pattern. If he could survive his seventh year with most of his classmates not knowing his name, then he succeeded.

Unfortunately, he wasn't stupid or naïve enough to believe that was even a remotely possible outcome.

That became especially apparent by their second class of the day. Of all the N.E.W.T. level classes, Charms seemed to have the highest enrollment at nearly 32 students. Ben assumed it was simply because the subject of Charms was so useful in the everyday lives of witches and wizards—as it was, the average wizard was far more likely to use a summoning charm during their daily life than say, use their lessons on Glumbumbles from Care of Magical Creatures.

But Ben quickly learned that the Charms professor, Professor Ackbar, was beloved by students and faculty alike. As the head of Hufflepuff, he was known for his kind deposition and his desire to keep the classroom fun when the lessons allowed for it.

He knew the man was active during the war. Ben heard his name before in recounting of the famous battles. It probably explained why he felt like Professor Ackbar was studying him whenever he looked in his direction.

Truthfully, Ben didn't know what the faculty knew outside of his Uncle, Chewie, and Kenobi. But he trusted Chewie—and, he supposed, his parents—enough to believe that if the rest of the faculty knew his true identity, they wouldn't say anything about it.

That class was supposed to be another opportunity for Ben to hang with Hux and a few of his other Slytherin classmates. He had no desire to branch out and meet people from other houses, just by virtue of knowing Slytherin's reputation.

Oh, and of course how Rey treated him.

But the Universe worked in cruel and mysterious ways. Ben should not have been surprised when Rey was assigned to be his partner for that morning's lesson on the gouging spell. _Defodio_ was not something in his repertoire, so Ben was rather excited for the assignment, even if it had to be completed with Rey.

He practiced about sixteen different interactions in his head with the Gryffindor girl, hoping that any one of them would somehow patch up their troubled relationship. That maybe with the right combination of Solo charm and Organa diplomacy, Rey Niima wouldn't hate him so desperately.

Ben was wrong.

"Ren." Rey muttered as she slid onto the seat beside him. His table in the back had been occupied by Hux, until his housemate was assigned to work with some Ravenclaw who's name, and face Ben wasn't familiar with. Now, Rey sat beside him, smelling of vanilla and roses, but looking far less chipper than usual.

He assumed her sour mood had to do with being forced to work with him, but an internal voice, one that sounded like his Uncle's chastising timbre, reminded him not to be such a narcissistic tool. Perhaps Monday had not been kind to her.

She looked tired.

He knew the feeling.

"Rey," He began, thinking back to his previously rehearsed interactions prior to her arrival, "Good morning." It was a stellar start, especially since he had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

Instead of a polite—or indifferent—response, a pair of hazel eyes glared at him. "Bugger off, Ren. It's too early for you to do that American arse-kissing thing."

He cleared his throat. "I'm… not sure what you mean."

Rey rolled her eyes. "You lot always pretend to care how others are doing. So I'm saying to save it for someone who actually wants it. Like one of the hags in Slytherin or a member of your fan club."

Ben sighed and glanced back to the blackboard, reviewing the instructions of their assignment yet again. He hadn't been at Hogwarts for even an entire week and he managed to piss off the prettiest girl in the school. If anything ran in his pesky blood, it was most definitely _that_.

"It's called being polite," He finally muttered in response, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth, "Maybe you could learn a thing or two."

He could practically _feel_ the frustration rolling off the girl beside him. "My, aren't you just a prat, Ren?" She shook her head and grabbed her wand, the ash held tightly in her angry fingers, "_You_ could learn a thing or two about respect."

Ben sat up straight. Without his shoulders hunching, he dwarfed over her. His dad frequently joked he had giant's blood running through his veins. His mother joked that maybe he was Chewie's. His dad didn't like those jokes very much, no matter how harmless they were.

"I'm just being honest," He retorted, looking down to meet her angry gaze, "You were the one that said honesty is the best policy, and well, I _honestly_ think you could be more polite to me."

The way her mouth fell open was equally as shocking as it was humorous. But he didn't get very long to bask in her stunned silence or enjoy how pretty she looked with the sunlight painting her hair gold before she began her scathing attack.

"Listen here, Kylo," She hissed out, leaning closer so they sat only inches apart, "I dunno who you think you are, but you can't just show up here and think you run this school. Your Slytherin lot think you're so bloody smart and cool, but you're not. Not at all." She shook her head, her cheeks ruddy. "You don't get to attack our favorite professors or insinuate about our personal lives. You've been here less time than the bloody first years."

Maybe, when he was safe in the privacy of his dormitory, he'd consider how troubling it was that he enjoyed making her angry. He could call it revenge for her asking the one question he couldn't answer in order for them to be friends. He could call it narcissism, and just decide that flustering other people made him happy.

But deep down, he knew it was because she looked so pretty when she was angry, and nothing thrilled him more than every ounce of her attention being focused on him and him alone.

If they couldn't be friends, he would have to settle for rivals. It was the only way to ensure she'd continue speaking to him.

"If you don't want me to insinuate about you—or assume you need better manners—than maybe you could just be polite back, Rey. All I said was good morning." He explained, happy to continue staring into those big, hazel eyes, "You don't want to be my friend, fine. But we can still be polite and courteous to one another."

He was _really_ nailing that Organa diplomacy.

Rey glared at him, her nose pinching in disgust. "I knew you for mere days before you accused me of using Professor Skywalker as a father figure and called him a fraud. Then, when you did have the balls to apologize, you wouldn't even tell me what prompted your outburst. So don't you dare lecture me about manners and friendship, Kylo Ren."

Ben shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Exactly! We barely know each other. I can't possibly divulge every detail of my life to you. You wouldn't do the same for me!"

She crossed her arms. "Nothing in my life is interesting enough to keep secret, Ren. Secrets never lead to anything good. That's why we can't be friends."

"Oh?" He asked, his eyes locked on hers, "You expect me to believe you don't have a single secret in your life?"

Rey hummed and nodded. "I don't."

"Your friends know every single thing about you? There's not a single detail that you decided to keep hidden from them for whatever reason?" He studied her. For a millisecond, panic seemed to overcome her features. But before he could even confirm to himself what he saw, it was gone.

Rey was back to her self-righteous certainty. "Precisely."

Ben just shook his head. "Fine, Rey. I guess you're so much better than me. But we can still be nice. Try to get along."

"That depends. Are you Slytherin's new seeker? I know they had practice on Saturday."

He cleared his throat and nodded. "I am."

With a hum, Rey twirled her wand. "Then I dunno, Kylo. I'd say we have a lot more dueling in our future."

Ben wanted to be angry, or to issue a retort back, but all he managed to do was watch as she reread the instructions. As soon as she flicked her wrist, uttering "_Defodio"_ at their pile of rocks, he knew he was an absolute goner.

At least he could be sure about one thing. He was most definitely his father's son.

Solo men tended to fixate on frustrating women. Frustrating _and _frustratingly beautiful ones.

-x-

Rey grumbled and stormed along the corridors, desperate to forget her entire Charms lesson. Maybe later in her life, she'd regret not knowing the _Defodio _charm, but at the moment, nothing would please her more than forgetting Kylo Ren's dark eyes and taunting words.

"_You expect me to believe you don't have a single secret in your life?"_

She had been so certain—so _adamant_—about her own openness with her friends, that the thought of her not having shared every detail with them seemed impossible. Finn knew about Rey's childhood crush on the seventh-year Gryffindor Quidditch star during her second year. Rose knew about Rey's first—and pathetic—attempt at touching herself below the sheets the summer after her fourth year. Even Poe, who's friendship she considered forced at best, knew all about Rey's upbringing in the foster system.

But with those impossibly dark eyes staring into her soul, like a pair of knowing crystals taunting her words, it occurred to her just how false her claim was.

Her friends didn't know everything.

Nobody knew about the voices. Or the dreams.

Rey shook her head and strolled into the Great Hall, desperate for lunch. She didn't want to think about Kylo's words for too long. If she did, she might decide she was being too harsh on him by forbidding their friendship unless he spilled the beans about his relationship with Professor Skywalker. Given her own realization about keeping secrets from her friends, she realized it was hypocritical at best.

But then again, Professor Skywalker had been a mentor to her since his arrival at the school last year. Did she really want to be friends with someone who uttered such cruel and unforgiving words at a man he barely knew?

Trying to think through the madness of Kylo Ren's arrival would be impossible until she filled her stomach. So, she scurried to her usual table and slipped beside Rose, ready to stuff her face with what appeared to be stew, and jacket potatoes, and a glorious looking roast chicken, and—

"OY!"

She cut off her own daydreaming of food when her eyes bounced from a promising looking platter of custard tarts to Finn's nervous, but smiling form. He sat behind said tray, decked out in a practice Quidditch kit in Hufflepuff's distinct yellow, his forearms encased in thick brown pads.

"I had the same reaction." Poe retorted from beside Rose, munching away on a custard tart, "Nearly pissed myself laughing."

Rey looked back to Finn. "Finn! Since when did you join the Quidditch team? You hate flying!"

Rose, who sat beside her, hummed in agreement. "I said the same thing. But he was guilted into it."

"I was not guilted into it!" Finn exclaimed. He crossed his arms and looked between his friends. "For the last time, Klaud and Larma asked if I would consider being a Beater because," He cleared his throat and muffled his voice, "We're short a player."

Poe just shook his head, unimpressed. "Honestly, leave it to Hufflepuff to not be able to field a Quidditch team. Between the other three houses, _fifty_ students didn't make the cut as first string or alternates! But you lot can't even get the seven starters, let alone your bench!"

He let out a yelp as Rose elbowed him. With a smug, satisfied smile, she turned back to Finn. "Don't play if you don't want to, Finn. Quidditch is a big commitment."

"Not to mention, Poe will torment you for weeks when we inevitably kick your arse," Rey added, through a mouthful of jacket potato, "You know how he is."

Finn just shook his head. "I appreciate everyone's concern, but I'm going to do this. I want the experience. You lot love playing Quidditch, so why not? Besides, it's all in good fun anyways. We know we aren't going to win any matches."

Poe snorted. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"You might want to dial back that confidence, Poe. Larma was telling me that she watched most of the Slytherin practice on Saturday. Apparently, Kylo Ren is the new seeker and he's incredible."

Rey piped in, unable to help herself. Evidently, if Kylo Ren was involved, she'd make her opinion known. "Sure. No offense to Larma, but she'd probably think a house elf on a mop would be a good seeker. She's not exactly Harpies material." Rey liked Larma, she did, but the girl was absolutely not destined for professional Quidditch.

Or… recreational Quidditch, for that matter. She was sweet, just not terribly good at the game.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Maybe not, but she was with Wrobie and Wrobie thinks Kylo is the best seeker at Hogwarts in the past two decades."

Rey swallowed. Well, that changed things. Wrobie was Larma's girlfriend and Ravenclaw's seeker, and a damn good one at that. Not as good as DJ, Slytherin's seeker up until this year, and not as good as Rey, but still talented.

So, to hear that Wrobie not only thought Kylo was good, but also better than Rey—and DJ—had her stomach in knots. She glanced at Poe, who afforded her a shrug, clearly no cares in the world.

"We'll just have to see then, won't we?" Rey forced out, glancing at her abandoned plate of food with disgust, "Only time will tell if he's actually as good as they say he is."

Poe laughed and pointed at Finn, bits of potato escaping from his mouth. "You lot play Slytherin first, so we'll take notes when your arses are kicked."

Finn just shrugged. "It's funny now, but when you lose the House Cup, don't come crying to me or Rose."

"Winning shouldn't matter. It's only about—"

Rose's words were cut off by Finn, Poe, and Rey in perfect sync.

"Having fun."

Rey couldn't help but smile. Maybe, with her friends by her side, Rey would be able to forget about the dreams plaguing her nights and the dark-haired boy plaguing her days.

One could hope.

-x-

The rest of Ben's Monday flew by. Since Rey was in every class, avoiding her was a challenge, but there was a steady stream of Slytherins during every period that helped distract him. Not to mention, without Defense Against the Dark Arts, he wasn't subjected to his Uncle's cruel stares and the blatant brown-nosing of his classmates.

Of course, the delight of escaping his Uncle didn't last long. The man cornered him by the Black Lake, his new favorite spot. He was doing some reading for Ancient Runes when his Uncle showed up, returning from the Forbidden Forest with a dark green cloak covering his head and a basket of god knows what.

He stopped at Ben's feet, watching him with curious eyes. "Ben."

Ben growled and slammed his book shut. He looked around the surrounding area, confirming their privacy, before looking back to his Uncle. "Don't call me that. You know better."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Relax. Clearly I know we're alone."

"Still. Now what do you want?" He hadn't spoken to his Uncle since their fight last week. He had hoped over the weekend—rather naively—that either of his parents would have contacted him. By owl, or floo powder, or even the two-way mirror he was gifted back when he started Ilvermorny.

Instead—and expectantly—he was met with silence. Maybe it was the same, knowing gaze that his Uncle shared with his Mother, but it upset him dearly that even his miserable Uncle was willing to do what his parents hadn't.

"I wanted to see how you were." Luke began, setting his basket by his feet. Ben looked over the contents. He was unfamiliar with most, except for what appeared to be a vial of acromantula venom and a collection of golden Ashwinder eggs. Leave it to his Uncle to wander into danger for potions ingredients.

"As if you care." Ben finally spat back, glancing back to Luke with his usual disinterest, "Just go away."

Luke sighed. "Ben, please. I hate when you do this. We don't always have to fight."

"I really feel like we do."

"But we don't." Luke's voice was sterner this time. "You're my nephew and I care deeply about you."

Ben scoffed and crossed his arms. "Is that so? Then why did you heckle me in front of your entire class? You made me look like a moron all because some asshole gave me an enchanted map. You could have cut me some slack and instead, you were more interested in making yourself look powerful."

His Uncle shook his head. "I don't tolerate tardiness in my classroom. I can't give you a break. It sets precedence. Besides, the last thing I need is for another student to think I'm favoring you." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "It was bad enough that Miss Niima overheard at least part of our conversation."

At the mention of Rey, Ben snorted. "Yeah, well, no worries there. Rey doesn't know my real identity, and even if she did, she wouldn't care. She'd hate Ben and Kylo equally."

Luke hummed, seemingly amused by the declaration. "Miss Niima is a smart girl. I'm sure you can salvage the relationship."

Ben scoffed. "Please. Not with these ridiculous house rivalries. Everyone at Ilvermorny got along. Here, people use Slytherin as both an insult _and_ a badge of pride. How is that possible?"

"People value different traits," Luke explained, "And unfortunately, Slytherin has a reputation of producing some bad wizards. Not all mind you, but many of them."

Ben didn't want to be or need to be reminded of that fact. It weighed heavy on his shoulders and darkened most of his thoughts. "I'm aware."

Luke watched him carefully, his dark eyes making Ben miss the comforting presence of his mother. "When we were arguing, you said something that caught my attention Ben. You told me that you dream about…"

"Your final battle with Lord Palpatine." Which he did. Not every night, but most nights. The faces were never clear, and the voices were hard to understand, but he knew where he was.

His Uncle looked aghast. "And in these dreams—"

"I'm not talking about this." Ben jumped to his feet, thrilled that he now towered over his Uncle. "But they told me all I needed to know. You had help, even if the rest of the world doesn't know."

Luke rubbed at his eyes. "If you ever acted like a man, Ben, perhaps we all would sit down and walk through the war with you—"

"Oh? And who is we?" He didn't know why he bothered to ask. He knew the answer.

Evidently, Luke knew that Ben knew too, because he ignored him. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have these dreams been going on for?"

Ben didn't have an answer for that. For as long as he could remember, nightmares kept him awake at night. But these specific dreams of the final battle, the one that culminated in Lord Palpatine's death, had only been happening for about a year. In his ruminating, he must have vocalized that, because his Uncle looked disturbed.

With quick movements, Luke retrieved his basket and stepped away from Ben, watching him with careful eyes. "Ben," He began, his voice rushed, "Please come to me whenever you need me. There's so much you don't know and so much you could learn."

"Funny." Ben remarked, watching his Uncle with clear distaste, "Before, you wanted nothing to do with me. You told me I was a child of the dark arts. The embodiment of darkness because of the blood in my veins and the wand that chose me."

Luke cleared his throat. "Ben. My dear nephew. There is so much you don't know."

"Then I guess I'll stay ignorant forever, won't I?" Ben spat back. He grabbed his backpack and stepped away. "I'm just a child, remember?" With the shake of his head, he stalked off. He didn't have it in him to even look back at his Uncle, let alone obsess over his words.

With his original favorite spot ruined, he journeyed to the library and settled at a table in the back. Despite the stress clutching his neck, he was able to finish about half of his Transfiguration essay, until a new distraction appeared.

This one was far prettier to look at.

Rey was tucked under one of the floating candles, dressed in an oversized knit sweater. Her hair was loose of her usual three buns, and instead tied in a delicate braid down her back. Her face was buried in a massive book, her tongue peaking from between her lips as she studied each word with absolute devotion.

If he were closer, he would have counted the freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose or the distinct shades he found in her colorful, hazel eyes.

If she didn't hate him, he may have joined her table, gifting her with American candies and sweets he brought from home, desperate to win her favor.

If he wasn't a pathetic coward, he may not have been in this position to begin with.

Maybe they would have lounged by the Black Lake, dining on cotton candy and reading excerpts from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. They would have discussed Quidditch and literature and food and played with their cats.

But it wasn't that. Not at all. He wasn't close to her—not in the literal _or_ figurative sense. She most definitely _did_ hate him, based on every interaction they had shared over the past four days. And perhaps most disappointingly, he was _still_ a pathetic coward.

If he hadn't let Luke set him off—_again_—he'd probably have a friend in Gryffindor.

He granted himself another look at her, practically hypnotized by her beauty.

In his fantasy world, she'd be a lot more than a friend.

-x-

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